


In Situ

by macwritesthings



Category: Real Person Fiction, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Archaeology, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwritesthings/pseuds/macwritesthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen Ackles' only love, as long as he can remember, has been archaeology. He's notorious for quick, efficient digs and no one outside of his team of diggers and lab rats really knows much about him. Then he meets Jared Padalecki, a grad student, on a summer dig and suddenly his life becomes more complicated. Jared seems intent on breaking down Jensen's walls, and Jensen finds himself drawn to the other man against his best intentions. Jensen loves digging, but when someone begins digging at him, will he withdraw as usual? Or finally let those walls be broken down?</p><p>(Originally written and posted on my livejournal for SPN fic, kaz2y5_impala, for the Supernatural BigBang 2009. I'm in the process of transferring over all that jazz, so have some fic from seven years ago!)</p><p>original artwork for the story can be found <a href="http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/44137.html">HERE!</a> by the lovely inanna-mat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

  
In Situ   
_in the original place._

\------------

Debitage   
_the by-products or waste materials left over from the manufacture of stone tools._

Jensen Ackles wakes up to tangled sheets and a cold pillow. It’s not surprising, he thinks, rolling over and rubbing one hand against his eyes. On the days he doesn’t have to be at a site early or at a town meeting or some other asinine thing, he likes to sleep in. Bobby, on the other hand, seems unable to realize what ‘relaxation’ even is. 

He’s used to cold pillows on days off. What he’s not used to, he realizes with a jolt as he finally becomes all the way conscious, is half-pulled out drawers, the vast space of _empty_ left behind. He sits up fully, glances into the connected bath, sees one toothbrush. One razor. 

Fear a hard knot in his belly, he reaches for the phone as it rings. Fingers trembling, he grabs it, flips it open.

“Bobby?” he doesn’t even bother checking the screen first, and the voice he hears makes him wish he had.

“Jensen. Would you like to explain to me what’s currently happening on the news?” his father’s voice is just like he remembers—cold, with that hint of ‘I’m Only Talking To You Because You’re Family’. 

“Dad, I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he says, rubbing one hand over his face and trying to think of a way to hang up when his call waiting beeps. “Hang on,” he switches over to the sound of indignant sputtering.

“Bobby?” he asks again, voice more desperate that he wants it to be.

“Jensen,” Sandy’s voice is low, soothing. “Don’t turn on the TV, okay? I’m on my way over. Just…stay away from electronics.” With that, she’s gone, and Jensen stares at the phone in his hand. When it rings again, signaling his held call, he just ignores it, padding out of the room and into the living room.

Dread a sick pit at the hollow of his throat, he picks up the remote and watches the picture waver into focus. It takes him a few seconds to figure out what’s happening on the screen in front of him. He catches the words ‘student-teacher relationship’ and ‘advantage taken’ before he has to bolt from the room to throw up what little was in his stomach.

When Sandy finally arrives, she finds him curled against the cool tiles, TV still on in the background, Bobby’s face filling the screen. 

Archaeology (noun)   
_The scientific study of past human cultures by analyzing the material remains (sites and artifacts) that people left behind._

The thing Jensen likes about archaeology is the quiet.

He likes the space you get away from others, the sectors that belong to you and you alone, the way the dirt feels under your fingers. He likes the motions, the movements of the brushes. The quiet sound of picks scraping away at rock, the lazy maps of twine that show off their respective treasures: houses, bones. Families. 

It’s not that he’s not a people person, it’s just that he likes being alone. Well, he thinks, that’s not it either, not really. He enjoys the company of others, but he’d _rather_ be alone. He enjoys solitude, the feeling that it’s just him and the bones in front of him. He likes being able to be alone with them, imagine their lives, their relationships. He finds mothers buried with tiny child bones, thinks of love and compassion. Finds dogs buried with families, thinks of loyalty. 

He doesn’t care that Sandy teases him about it, calls him a “fantastical dreamer”, affection hidden behind the words. He just smiles slightly and shrugs, knows it’s true. He likes being able to write the reports, write about the settlements. Sketch out what he thinks they might’ve looked like—it helps, he thinks, with the learning process. He knows he’s supposed to approach it with scientific views, but after a while that just means he’s looking at a bunch of bones with no meaning. It’s supposed to mean something, he thinks. This is his history he’s looking at, not just a pile of bones and dirt.

The imagination of it all is what keeps him going. His own headspace, earphones in place and Sinatra crooning out love, devotion, and sass. Thinking about families and the things they loved enough to bury with them.

Because he thinks that’s what it’s all about, in the end: evolution of human feelings. Of love and compassion and anger. There’s usually a lot of anger in older settlements—skeletons with holes in their skulls, ribcages riddled with arrowheads, badly healed bones. But there is also love—the mothers buried with children, bones of old men buried with hatchets or what he thinks of as a prized possession.

It’s peaceful, he thinks, stretching to work out the kinks in his back. And that’s what he likes about it. The peace, the quiet.

The slam of a door draws his attention, and he glances over at the Suburban that’s pulled up, sighing quietly. Sandy’s in the driver’s seat, exuberance painted all over her expression. She laughs at something the passenger of the car says before she kills the engine and the doors open, people spilling out. 

Jensen watches, smiles a little at the way two of the girls wrestle over each other as they climb out, the way the boy who follows shoves around with them. They’re followed by another blonde girl, who almost immediately jumps on the back of the lone female brunette, almost toppling the girl over. Sandy hops out and down, almost comically small next to the five others with her.

When the seventh occupant rounds the hood, grabbing the blonde male in a headlock and grinning at the female he’d currently been scuffling with, Jensen finds himself intrigued. He’s got a smile a mile wide, and long, easily graceful limbs that would be gawky on anyone else. He glances down at Sandy when she says something and laughs, throwing his head back. Jensen watches the way the girls shoot each other glances and smirk slightly. He tips his head, considering. He’s heard that the first twenty seconds of observation are all someone needs to consider if they want to work with someone or not, and he’s generally found that to be true.

Sandy sees him watching and lifts one hand in a wave. Jensen shakes his head and raises one hand back, smiling despite himself. He sees her body language change, the tilt of her head, and knows that she’s rolling her eyes at him, and it makes him smile slightly. He watches her round up the others and pointing them in the direction of the house they’ve rented for the duration of the dig before turning back to what he was doing.

Jensen barely jumps when the small finger digs into his ribs moments later. He grunts in acknowledgement and laughs when Sandy just jumps on his back moments later and pretends to strangle him. He shrugs her off and turns, tugging the headphones out of his ears and winding them around his fingers absently.

“So…” Sandy begins, waggling her eyebrows at him. “It’s that time again.” Jensen snorts.

“Time for you to begin seducing impressionable young men again?” he smirks, “I don’t actually enjoy watching the poor things mope around the dig site after you, so maybe be less attractive this year?” Sandy moves to cuff him on the head and he dodges easily, grasping her wrist and grinning at her.. She glares at him momentarily before tugging her wrist loose.

“You’re a jerk,” she informs him. “You know what I meant.” Jensen shrugs, as if to say, _I did?_ and she rolls her eyes. “Summer interns, buddy boy. Grad students. The end of our lives being peaceful and quiet on digs.” She pauses a moment, then gives him a slow, wicked smile. “And one of them might swing your way.” She dances out of reach when he tries to smack her, laughter ringing bright and clear, but he notices that she’s watching him with careful eyes, seeing if the joke was a bit too much, too soon. When he just shakes his head at her, her grin brightens. “I’m going to help them settle in,” she says, walking backwards so she can point a stern finger in his direction. “Play nice when you finally come inside.”

Jensen pulls a face, feeling twelve, but she makes one right back before continuing on her way, and he huffs out a brief laugh, glancing behind him at the plot he was sectioning off. Biting his lower lip, he tucks the headphones in his pocket.

He might as well meet all the over-eager puppies at once, he thinks, turning towards the house. Besides, he thinks, better they meet him first than Chris—they may be scared away from digging forever if that were to happen. 

Jared can barely contain his excitement. He knows that Chad thinks its kind of stupid, that he’s like this huge seven-year-old trapped in a twenty-four-year-old’s body, but he can’t help it.

Well, he thinks, he probably could, but being able to and wanting to are two entirely different things. 

He watches the road as they drive. He participates in the conversation, of course, excitement bubbling up out of some hidden depth, but he wants to see civilization disappearing. Wants to be able to see the moment they go from being _here and now_ to _then_. He watches the others behind him joke and jostle each other, twists around in his seat (he’s shotgun, argued that being the tallest means he should get it) to poke Chad’s head when the asswipe kicks his chair. He chats with Sandy, the one who interviewed them all for the positions. She’s got huge, friendly eyes that glint with good humor when he fires off retorts to Chad’s pithy insults from behind him.

And then it happens, so fast that Jared almost misses it. One minute they’re on the bridge in the main part of town, the next they’re over it, rumbling along a road, and the buildings just—stop. Completely cease to exist. He grows quiet for a moment, peering back through his window at the town that’s mostly vanished from view. He takes one breath in and grins hugely.

“Cool, isn’t it?” Sandy’s voice draws his attention back, and he turns and nods.

“Yeah.” He glances back again, noticing that none of the car’s other occupants seem to have noticed their gradual pulling away from civilization.

“It’s my favorite part of crossing the bridge,” she says, glancing briefly out her own window. “It’s like…something’s changed, something big that no one else realizes.” She looks at him sideways. “Normal people don’t get it. There are houses out here, sure,” she gestures vaguely with one hand, “But there’s also all of these other things.”

Jared looks at her somewhat critically, and she catches his glance, laughing. “I know, I know,” she says, “I don’t look like that geeky digger person at all.” He shakes his head.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Sandy raises one eyebrow, disbelieving. “Okay, maybe it is that,” he relents. “Kind of. It’s just…” he gestures back at the girls behind him. “They _get_ it, but at the same time I feel like sometimes I’m more into it than they are.” Jared glances out his window again. 

“Because you’re a _girl_ , dude,” Chad’s voice comes from behind him, and suddenly the fucker’s got his arms wrapped around Jared’s neck from behind him, one hand moving up to ruffle his hair. “You get all deep and into it.” Jared swears and tugs away, pushing Chad’s face out of the space in-between his and Sandy’s chair.

“Dogs stay in the backseat, dude,” Jared informs him, laughing when Chad gets yanked backwards by Katie and Sarah. Sarah leans over next, shaking her blonde-streaked-black hair back from her face.

“It’s beautiful out here,” she says, glancing around much the way Jared was. Out of all the girls in the car, he’d found he liked her already. She was quieter than the others, but had this exuberance that came out when she got really excited about something—and he knew that what she got excited about was digging. They’d been talking before Sandy had come to get them, and he’d realized that, out of all of them, she and he maybe had the most in common. She turned her blinding smile on Jared. “I don’t think you’re a girl,” was her comment before she ducked back into the backseat, but she was replaced by Katie, smirking and mischievous-eyed.

“I do,” the other blonde informed him, and Chad whooped, slapping her a high-five. Jared just snorted and turned his attention back out the window.

When they rolled up to the site, he caught his breath. He knew that the senior diggers were there already, setting up the grids, getting the lay of the land, but he hadn’t expected it to look like _this_. As the others spilled out around him, he rounded the hood, hazel eyes taking in the lines of string, the tables set up under tents to hold the day’s finds, the places where the sifts would be. Chad joined him, grinning widely. “Girl,” he says. Jared laughs, grabbing him in a headlock and shooting a look at Hilarie.

“He’s such a lame-ass,” she informs him and Chad just flips her the bird. Sandy strolls over, looking amused. 

“Children, don’t kill each other before we get started,” she says, “We need all the cheap, free labor we can get.” Jared laughs at that, and catches Sandy’s wave to another digger working a ways off, in a sector slightly to himself. He quirks one eyebrow at Sandy when she turns back around and she rolls her eyes. “Okay, listen up!” Her voice is suddenly twice as loud and the scuffling stops, arms draped casually over each others’ shoulders. She points in the direction of the house. “That’s where we’re staying. There are two to a room and absolutely _no_ girl-boy pairings,” she shoots them a sly smirk. “Yes, you’re adults, but we’re still responsible if you get pregnant. Grab your bags, don’t kill each other over who gets what room, and gather downstairs.” She glances back towards the other figures in the field. “I’m gonna go gather the menfolk.” With one last grin, she’s off, practically bounding down the path.

Jared watches her go, shading his eyes against the sun as he watches her interact with the digger she’d waved to earlier, leaping on his back. Her laugh carries over the sounds of a dig site—the water rushing through sifts, the lab van buzzing. He stays there for a moment, watching them interact. Sandy strikes him as lively, one of the girls his sister loves to hate because she’s the type of girl Meg would think was too “peppy”. And the digger she’s talking to…Jared can’t see much, but he catches an affectionate look pass between the two before Sandy’s up the path again, waving them all towards the house.

“Please, you stand around there all day and nothing’s ever going to get done!” she calls, heading towards the house. Jared starts when Chad hip-checks him. He shoves Chad right back, grabbing his bag out of the trunk and slinging his backpack over one shoulder. With one last glance back towards the diggers, he follows Chad and the others towards the house.

Context   
_The relationship of artifacts and other cultural remains to each other and the situation in which they are found._

Jensen’s first thought when he steps into the house is that he’s walked into a daycare full of screaming children. There are twentysomethings everywhere—he knows he spotted two blonde girls in the kitchen, and at least one more escaping up the stairs. He hears laughter and chatter echoing off all the walls of the house, and for the first time it feels too small. He’s briefly tempted to just walk right back out the door, thinking that maybe he _can’t_ handle this after all, that he was right to stay away from these digs with students…but then he turns and catches one of them with her face practically pressed against the sliding door, eyes wide as saucers as she stares out at the dig site. Jensen feels his shoulders relax slightly, and he turns away. Maybe this was the right thing to do, he thinks, heading towards the main living space, but the house still feels too small.

Of course, before this evening, there were only four people living it in, and he’s really not that enthused about sharing his space. He spots another girl walking towards the living room, and changes direction, heading for the den where he prays _(please, God)_ that there will be quiet, and maybe alcohol. Just because he’s beginning to come to terms with how hard he didn’t realize this would be doesn’t mean he can’t still brace himself for it. Of course, both of these at the same time is too much to ask for, and he groans in mock-exasperation when he sees the other occupants of the den. Chris, that fucker, just grins and raises a glass in one hand. 

“Jenny boy,” he greets him. Steve smacks Chris on the head with the paper he’s holding in one hand, and Jensen grins. At least there’s one other sane person in the room.

“Christina,” he returns, crossing into the room and nipping the glass from Chris’ hand. He ignores the protests and downs the whiskey in one swallow, figuring one out of two isn’t that bad. “Glad to see you made it in alright. I would’ve _hated_ to have missed out on this wonderful experience.”

Steve snorts, and Chris barks out a laugh. These two, like Sandy, are people he’s comfortable around. People he’s known long enough to banter with, to not feel that itch between his shoulder blades telling him to go find solitude, go find dirt, go find something else besides people—although, sometimes being around Chris for too long can also make him feel like that, but Jensen figures that’s because Chris is insane, and no one can handle that much insanity for long. Jensen gives Chris the empty glass back and settles himself in one of the couches, sighing as he tips his head back.

“There’s a lot of them this year,” Steve says quietly, studying the paper in his hand again. Jensen nods wearily.

“I feel like I’m in a room of my sister’s friends,” he groans, closing his eyes momentarily. “Any minute now they’re going to begin talking about nail polish or the Jonas Brothers, and I am going to regret ever agreeing to do digs with students.” He leaves off the unspoken ‘again’. He knows they know, and he watches them carefully not say anything about it. 

Chris snorts. “They’re not tweens, Jensen. They’re graduate students. I’m pretty sure that makes them slightly more mature than your sister’s friends.”

Jensen opens one eye. “Clearly you’ve blocked out your memories of Kenzie’s friends,” he replies. Chris raises one eyebrow.

“Kenzie’s friends weren’t that bad,” he says. “Some of them worshipped how awesome we were, so that was a plus. And Jen, _these_ girls are also archaeologists, genius,” he retorts, unphased by the death look Jensen’s giving him. “You said the same thing about Sandy when you brought her on, didn’t you? Not that I blame you,” he added, rising and heading towards the table housing the alcohol. “She does look a bit like a space cadet. But she’s serious about the dig, son. So these girls will be talking about the Jonas Brothers while they also hold intelligent conversations about ancient hunter-gatherer tools.”

Steve looks up, raising one eyebrow. “You really have no idea how to even talk _about_ women, do you?” he asks mildly, and Jensen snickers.

“Why do I need to, baby?” Chris croons, flopping unceremoniously on Steve’s lap. “I’ve got you.” Jensen watches the way Steve makes a face at Chris, but he sees the tenderness underlying it and rolls his eyes.

“Make out somewhere else. You’ll scar the children for life,” he says, pushing to his feet. “I’m on KP tonight, so I should probably begin gathering the troops, figuring out who can eat what and so on.” He rubs his hands over his face, not wanting to leave the relative solitude he found in the den. “See you at dinner.” Steve nods, and Chris blows him over-emphasized kisses. Laughing, Jensen pulls the door open and steps back out into chaos.

\------------

It takes him an hour, but he finally manages to locate all but one of the students and figure out what their various eating habits are. They always have at least one vegetarian, and this year that was Sarah—or at least he thought it was Sarah. They all blended together in his head, and the beginning of a vicious headache was brewing behind his eyes by the time he’d gone through them all. He hopes that the last, mysterious grad student doesn’t care what’s cooked, because Jensen’s starving and doesn’t really want to take the time to hunt him down. When footsteps enter the kitchen behind him, he turns, expecting to find Sandy.

Instead, Jensen locks eyes with the tall, should-be-gangly-with-the-killer-smile-student he’d seen from the hill, and finds his hands stilling on the knife. Jensen blinks once, then proceeds in his chopping of carrots, looking back down at the cutting board.

“Heard you were looking for me. Sorry, I was out just kind of taking everything in. I’m Jared,” the guy says, smile apologetic. Jensen jerks one shoulder.

“It’s not a big deal. Just making sure no one’s deathly allergic to anything. You got any allergies I should know about, Jared?” he asks the question without turning around, because the dimples he’d thought he spotted at a distance earlier are even more lethal up close, and a little too reminiscent of someone else.

“Nah, nothing food-related,” Jared answers easily, and Jensen hears him move closer into the kitchen, figures he’s looking around. It’s nicer than some of the others they’ve had to work with, but this dig is also more high-profile. A house with an actual kitchen that people can actually walk around in is a perk. 

Jensen nods. “Okay then.” He goes back to chopping and mixing, focusing on the task at hand. He can still feel Jared’s presence behind him, knows he’s probably being rude for not introducing himself to him. But there are only three people here Jared doesn’t know, and that means he’s probably already figured out which of them he is. He doesn’t see the need to chat right now. A few moments later, the footsteps recede again, and Jensen lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He isn’t used to being watched, being analyzed. He certainly isn’t used to being left alone in silence, having the other person in the room content with not speaking, and he’s not sure how he feels about that.

The fact that Jared has a killer smile has nothing at all to do with his uncertainty, though. Jensen rolls his eyes as soon as the thought enters his head, knowing he’s being completely unrealistic, not to mention lying to himself. He has rules about these things, and rule number one on a dig site is to never get involved with the grad students. It isn’t a rule he breaks anymore—he’s only slipped once, and…

He shakes off the thought, briskly dumping ingredients into the pan of rice he’s had steaming. He won’t slip again.

\------------

Once dinner is made—jambalaya in vegetarian and carnivorous forms—Jensen rings the huge bell they’d installed in the kitchen to summon the troops whenever they were all needed, and braces himself for the onslaught of noise.

Two of the girls enter first, the brunette—Sophia, he thinks, and her blonde friend with the curly hair who he thinks is Hilarie. Sophia has a quick, sharp smile and a cute, girl-next-door look to her that he imagines is incredibly useful at getting her what she wants. He knows this isn’t her first time out on a dig, that she’s a second-year grad student and that last year she worked with Wellings and Rosenbaum—good guys, steady diggers, if not a bit cracked sometimes. He’s already got her pegged as someone who’s serious about this, since she didn’t give up after spending a summer with Tom and Mike. Hilarie’s taller, leaner, and something about the set of her jaw makes Jensen wary—he thinks it says insolence, but he’ll wait for Sandy’s confirmation as well, or Chris’s.

Sarah of the vegetarianism and streaked blonde hair comes next. She’s the quietest so far, speaking to him in polite, even tones while she was unpacking a very fine set of her own tools. Katie of the slightly slanted eyes and wicked smirk brings up the rear. Of all of the girls on the dig, she looks the most like the one to take things seriously, the one who is here because she wants to be and no one could get in her way.

Jensen approves of that kind of attitude, finds it something that grad students especially need to have. There’s not much work for archaeologists in the real world, no matter how many of them have degrees to do what it is they love. Digs can only have so many people at once, and colleges only have so many fellowships to give out per year. The fact that these five made it to this dig says something about their determination. 

He glances up when Steve and Chris come in, Chris still holding the glass from the den. Jensen raises one eyebrow at him and chuckles when Chris flips him off. It’s the way they’ve operated for years, since high school practically—Jensen was the quieter one, and Chris was Jensen’s personality, allowing his best friend live vicariously through him. Chris has always had enough vivacity for the both of them. Jensen sometimes thinks that when Chris gets angry or excited for no reason, what he’s really doing is acting out Jensen’s feelings for him. It makes him grateful and annoyed in even turns.

“It laughs,” a wondering voice says behind him, and Jensen merely gives Sandy a look that could peel paint when she sits down next to him. “I wasn’t sure your sense of humor had arrived intact, darling,” she teased. He catches the grin Steve shoots her before sobering and giving Jensen what he assumes Steve thinks is his sympathetic face. It’s a teasing he wouldn’t know what to do with if it came from anyone but those three—something that would have seemed foreign to him. At moments where he’s incredibly uncomfortable, surrounded by people he doesn’t know who are going to look up to him for the next three months, it’s nice having people around who understand him.

“Of course it did,” Chris chimes in, sitting down on Jensen’s left. “Jen wraps that up as carefully as he wraps those bones he loves finding, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you,” Jensen responds wearily, watching as Jared and Chad take seats in between Katie and Sarah. Sandy snickers, and Steve seats himself on Jensen’s other side, flicking Chris’ head as he does so. Jensen notices that Hilary is watching him with wide eyes, and realizes he just dropped the f-bomb as casually as if he were mentioning the weather. 

“Don’t scare the children, sweetheart,” Sandy says quietly, and Chad barks out a laugh.

“Please,” he says, running one hand through short blond hair. “We’ve all been on digs before, and we’re all grownups.”

“Doubt it,” Katie shoots back at him, perpetual smirk in place. Chad reaches across Jared to smack her, and Sarah hits him with the flat of her knife.

Jensen wishes for aspirin.

\------------

They make it through the first half of the meal without consequence after that. Sandy engages Sophia and Hilarie in conversations about their lives back home, the other classes they’re taking, what Sophia experienced on her first dig. Jared and Sarah begin talking about sports, and Chad and Katie keep on snarking at each other. Jensen eats in near-silence, content to just watch the people around him. He catalogues—he can’t help it. People, alive or dead, have always fascinated him.

Steve and Chris are talking about the grid lines, about where to set up the lab, and he occasionally lends an opinion, falling into the quiet comfort that comes from knowing two people all your life. They interact easily, and without a lot of the pomp that Jensen has found with other diggers. They’re devoted to the find, to the search, and since it’s not about the money or the fame that might come, he respects them. As colleagues, and as friends.

Dinner, and the subsequent conversations it brought, is winding down when Sandy asks, “So. What made you decide to go into this?”

Jensen looks at her sideways, and she sends him a small smile. It’s a question they ask every year, no matter how many people there are at the table, no matter how often they’ve heard the answers. They think it’s important to find out before the process starts the motivation behind why students are here. It’s important not only for breaking them into work groups, but for deciding who should work where. People who are only here for the hope of finding something that will make them famous—they can smoke those out, find other places to put them. Places where Jensen and Sandy hope they’ll understand what digging is all about. 

“Well,” the drawl comes from Katie, and Jensen flicks his eyes her way. She’s leaning back in her chair, fiddling with her silverware. “I’m really into digging up people’s corpses, but grave desecration is illegal, so this is the only way I get my kicks.”

Sandy smiles as laughter ripples across the table. Chris leans over to Steve, gesturing at Katie as he whispers something that makes Steve snicker.

“Well, that’s a good start,” Sandy says when things have quieted down. “But it’s not an answer.” She raises her eyebrows, and Jensen watches the way Katie’s brow furrows in confusion, the eyes that go to him for some sort of answer. He knows that technically he’s the one in charge here, but this is Sandy’s gig. He figures they’ve got to learn sooner or later to obey her as they would him. So he just shrugs and tips his head at Sandy. Katie sighs, biting her lower lip.

“I found dog bones in my backyard when I was eight,” she begins, flipping the butter knife over and under her fingers. “We were planting a rosebush, and there were these bones. My mom got freaked out, but I thought it was really cool. You could see the way it had been curled when it’d been buried, where it had had broken bones before. I thought it was amazing. She wouldn’t let me touch it, but it sparked an interest, I guess. So I began checking out books about archaeology from the library, watching movies about it. There’s this summer program back home where they offer college courses at a grade-school level, and my mom agreed to enroll me in the archaeology class to keep me out of her hair that summer.” She shrugs, setting the knife down and looking around the table. “I just liked knowing how things fit together, how they got there. I wanted to be able to study the bones and learn about the people. I’m not so big on the whole society overview, like some people,” she smirks slightly, glancing at Sarah. “But I know about bones. I know what they say about people. And that’s what I’m interested in.”

There’s a moment of brief silence, then Sandy nods. “That was the answer I was looking for,” she says, glancing at Jensen and Chris. Jensen nods, and Chris gives Katie a small smile, jotting her name down in the small notebook he’d pulled from his pocket. Katie gives them both a slightly calculating look before settling back in her chair.

“I like learning about people,” Sarah’s voice is next. “I like knowing what they did, what they treasured enough to bury with them.” One by one, they go around the table, each student—and senior digger—telling what it was that made them decide to do this. It’s telling, Jensen thinks as Chad gives a surprisingly deep answer to the question, what people say about why they choose something. People who may come off as having only one layer often have so many more, and he likes finding those layers, the things that make them tick.

Finally it’s just him, Jared, and Sandy who have to speak. Sandy grins, turns to Jensen. “I got into archaeology,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes at Jensen, “because of this really cute guy.” Jensen laughs, and Chris points his fork at her as the students around them erupt into laughter.

“You are not blaming this on me,” he says, eyes narrowing. Sandy grins at him.

“Different cute guy, honey, sorry,” she says. “So there was this guy,” she continues, “and it was probably the dumbest reason ever for me to go into something. I was going to major in history, but I figured digging up history was almost the same as learning about it, right?” She rolls her eyes. “Not so much. After the first year, he transferred out, and I was left at a college with a specialty in a degree that I wasn’t even sure I wanted anymore. But a few of the classes were interesting, and there was a required summer dig for first-year students. Sort of a way for them to weed out the ones who didn’t want to be there.” She glanced around the table with a wry smile, and Jensen saw understanding dawn on a few faces. Sandy folds her hands in front of her.

“So we’re on this dig, and I am hating every minute of it. It’s hot, I’m sweaty, we aren’t doing _anything_ productive, and then I brush away a space of rock and dirt, and there it is: a glimpse of a bone. I was shocked. I brushed some more, and it kept on getting longer. My professors ran over when I shouted that I’d found something, and they worked with me the rest of the day, uncovering what turned out to be the bones of a small child. I went to bed that night thrilled. I’d found something, something that could potentially help someone else learn about a culture, or a time period. It was that moment that got me hooked.” She gives Jensen a small smile. “I did end up majoring in history as well, but only so I would know more about the time periods and lifestyles of the people I would be digging up. And then I met Jensen in grad school, and…well, I’ll let him tell that.”

Jensen gives her a small smile before turning to Jared. “I always go last,” he says simply, and Jared nods. 

“Alright.” He’s silent for a moment, and Jensen wonders if he’s coming up with something, anything to give as an answer. He knows it’s not an easy question—how do you describe why you do something you may feel you can’t live without? But after a moment, Jared speaks. “I like the quiet of it all. The feeling that you’re being transported back into another time. The fact that there are people laid out here, away from civilization, yet they’re the civilization that started it all. It’s all part of this bigger picture, and I love that most people are unaware of the history they’re walking on, the things that are hidden underneath creek beds. I love that we get to be aware of it, show them pieces of their history. I like seeing how people react to the finds, and how each one affects me. I like the inner peace I get when I’m concentrating on a dig.” He shrugs and looks at Jensen, then Sandy. “I don’t know how to describe it any more accurately than that. I do it because I have to. Because if I didn’t, I could find something else to do, but it wouldn’t be as good as doing what I love.”

Everyone at the table is silent for a long minute, then Hilarie lets out a low whistle. “Well. You showed mine up, that’s for sure,” she says, sending Jared a small smile. Jensen studies her face, the way her lips tighten, and thinks again that she might cause trouble later in the summer. 

“It’s not about showing people up,” Sandy says, her easy smile showing none of the dislike Jensen knows she feels for the comment. “Your reason is your own, and they’re all good ones.” She looks at Jensen, who takes a sip of water before starting, looking at all the faces in front of them.

“You hear what he just said?” he asks, tilting his head in Jared’s direction. Solemn faces nod yes, and Jensen gives them his first smile. “Then you’ve already got my story.”

“Suck up,” Chad mutters, elbowing Jared.

“It’s because of the peace,” Jensen continues, ignoring the interruption. “Because of the pieces we find that make up a life. I like thinking about how people used the tools we find, why they buried certain members of tribes together—were they family? Friends?” He glances at Sandy, who shoots him a soft smile. “And then I met this miscreant,” he says, narrowing her eyes at her as a few people snicker, “and we started talking. She told me she was more into the history of it all, and I was more into the culture, I suppose. We got paired together on digs our first year, and our professors kept us together after that. They thought we worked well together. I’m a bit of a wishful thinker,” he says, glancing at the faces around him. “I don’t pay as much attention to the facts of things. I like making up my own stories about what happened. I suppose you could say she keeps me grounded.” He doesn’t miss the way half the girls in the room shoot envious looks at Sandy, and knows she’s ignoring it as well. “I suppose we all help each other,” he says, gesturing to Steve and Chris. “Every dig needs lab rats, diggers, fact-finders. Each person has a purpose.”

He glances around at them, sensing he has their full attention, and knows that now he has to give them the spiel—this might be the only time he has their full attention. “We’re not looking for glory on this dig. We’re not looking for fame or fortune—the latter of which you won’t find in this profession anyways,” he says with a wry smile. There are a few chuckles around the table. “We’re looking for pieces that make a whole, answers about life that very few people can find.” He pushes his chair back and nods once at the group. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He walks out, and hears the few seconds of silence before the chattering begins. Shaking his head, he turns and heads up the stairs. 

Grid   
_a network of uniformly spaced squares that divides a site into units; used to measure and record an object's position in space._

In the morning, they begin. 

Jensen directs them to Steve after they eat, and Steve breaks them into groups. Katie and Sarah are assigned to Sandy’s quadrant, the area they think was once the home of the chief of the village. Hilarie and Chad are assigned to Chris in the lab, helping with carbon dating and piecing together the fragments of pottery and weaponry. Steve claims Sophia to help him finish the grid, and Sandy claims Jared to help Jensen work in the sub-quadrant of the chief’s home. When he discovers this, Jensen shoots Steve a look. Steve just shrugs.

“She’s a viper, man,” he says, climbing into the lab truck and grinning out at him. “How’m I supposed to say no to that?” He pulls the door shut and Jensen sighs, taking one breath before turning and walking towards their shared sector.

It’s not as bad as he thought it would be—of course, the fact that he thought it was going to be bad at all is a sign of something, he’s sure, but not something he wants to think about at anytime soon. Sandy’s already working when he comes over, head tilted towards Sarah as she answers a question, headphones in only one ear so she can still hear what’s happening around her. They learned early on that being completely shut off from the world around them when grad students were involved was a bad idea. Jensen considers asking her what, exactly, she was thinking when she decided to have Jared work with them, but he knows he’d only get a smartass remark. Instead he taps her on the shoulder and tells her he’ll be in the northern corner of his section. She just nods and smiles before turning back to her conversation with Sarah.

When he turns around, he sees why.

Jared’s already in the northern corner, hunkered down on his haunches, the brush he’s using comically small in his hands. Jensen stops for a moment, focuses on the way Jared’s tied a bandana around his head in an effort to keep his hair out of his face—on anyone else it would look ridiculous, but on Jared…there’s something vaguely fascinating about it, and Jensen finds himself wondering if he color-coordinates them, since his shirt is the same shade as the bandana. Then he realizes what he’s doing and wants to hit his head against the side of the lab truck.

He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t act like a teenager who’s caught in lust, who can’t stop looking at the new kid. He’s an adult, and he’s going to act like one.

And if he puts in his earphone before he gets to Jared and keeps the side with the ear bud in it facing him, well, there’s nothing adolescent about that at all.

\------------

Jared’s not quite sure what to make of Jensen. Or Sandy, for that matter, but he’d rather focus on Jensen for the time being. Sandy kind of scares him, with her too-knowing eyes and her sharp smile that suggests she knows just what she’s doing when she tells him that yes, honey, she _knows_ that Jensen’s in the north sector, but it can’t hurt to have two people working there now, can it?

Jared shudders slightly, glancing over at Sandy. Yeah, he’d much rather focus on Jensen.

Jared prides himself on being able to figure people out. It’s just something he’s always been good at. In grade school, he was that kid who just sat back and watched the kids around him interact. It’s not that he’s antisocial, he just likes watching people more than interacting with them at times. But people and their relationships are fascinating, and he can usually tell a lot about people by watching them.

Katie (for example, he thinks, carefully brushing dirt away from a marker), puts on a tough-girl attitude, but he’s seen her talk to Sarah, seen her act like a total Valley Girl. She puts on an act, but inside there’s someone who’s a little bit silly, and a lot bit intelligent. He values people who know enough about themselves to know that they may have to, in their profession, put on another demeanor, and he thinks Katie has it down pat.

But Jensen…He glances over again, sees Jensen come into view, headphones in place. Jensen is another mystery altogether. Jared saw a speech he gave once, at a conference in San Fernando, and he admired the no-nonsense way Jensen presented things. Jared took it for being somewhat anal and brisk, a kind of no-bullshit attitude, but now that he’s actually around the guy he has no idea what to think. It’s not a briskness, he thinks, glancing at Jensen out of the corner of his eye. Or even shyness, which is a term he’s heard used to describe Jensen before—because he’s seen Jensen around the other senior diggers, and it’s not that. If anything, it would be described as aloofness. But when he thinks _aloof_ he doesn’t think _Jensen_. The two words just don’t seem to go together. There’s none of that detached coolness coming from Jensen, just…detachment.

It intrigues him and frustrates him at the same time. He’s never _not_ been able to figure people out. And he knows better than to mention it to Chad, because he’ll just snort and tell Jared that he’s one of two things: an asshat or a lovesick tween girl. Jared’s pretty sure it’ll be the second one.

He shifts position, settling back on the ground and wiping sweat out of his eyes with the heel of his hand. Of course, he reasons, resuming brushing, he’s only known the guy for about a day and a half. He can’t expect to be able to discover all his life secrets in that short amount of time. The fact that he wants to because he hasn’t been able to figure anything out yet only irritates him more.

He catches himself brushing harder than he should and makes himself focus. There is no way he’s fucking this up on his very first day. It would be typical for him to find something valuable, like a hand, and then break it because he’s angry with himself over his student-teacher crush (and didn’t _that_ bring up interesting ideas…). He glances over at Jensen again, not focusing on the way the sun shadows half his face, throwing the near-blonde of his hair into sharp relief. Totally not focusing on that at all. Jensen looks up and meets Jared’s eyes, and he turns away, cursing under his breath.

When he looks up again a few moments later, Jensen has resumed his work, his back to Jared. Calling himself ten kinds of idiot, Jared takes the dirt he’s collected over to the sifters.

Site   
_a place where human activity occurred and material remains were deposited._

They don’t always have a house for digs. Sometimes it’s just a string of hotel rooms, a few rooms in a small B&B. Jensen still remembers the first dig he and Sandy did when they had to live in tents on the dig site because the town they were digging in had a population of one hundred, and no hotel for twenty miles. 

On digs with students, however, they usually get houses. For one thing, it’s safer—universities usually like knowing that their student body is safe if they’re out in the real world—and for another, it’s more convenient. They can house extra tools, a makeshift lab, and ten to twenty diggers in a house, depending on how big it is and how many extra rooms they have.

However, Jensen thinks, sometimes having a house is not a good idea.

They’re well into week two, and the dig has been postponed for the past two days because of rain. Usually they work through rain, but in Alabama rain sometimes means monsoons, and there is no way Jensen is risking new diggers in mud and pouring rain. If it was just him, Chris, Steve, and Sandy, they’d be out there no matter what the weather, but in current conditions they’ve put up tarps the best they can and are trying to preserve and protect what they’ve already uncovered—Jensen knows there’s nothing that the big-wig who was trying to build condos on the dig space would like more than for all evidence of former life to be erased, and he’s determined not to let that happen.

But the house is a different story entirely. When Jensen walks in, dripping, from emptying water off the top of tarps, he just stops and stares. 

There are clothes all over the living room—sweaters and jackets strewn over the backs of couches and chairs. There are pants draped off the stair banister, and magazines and books everywhere. Someone’s left a half-finished drawing of the site on the table, and he swears that there’s a dish with some sort of organism living in it sitting on the coffee table. He’s about to back out, to just go back outside and deal with the mud and the shit falling from the sky when Sandy comes down the stairs and smiles brightly at him.

“Well, you look like a ray of sunshine,” she comments, delicately hopping over someone’s iPod on the floor. Jensen just looks at her, knowing he must look absolutely desperate, and she laughs. “It’s not _that_ bad,” she says, grabbing a towel off the coat rack before handing it to him. “They’ve just been inside for too long.”

“So take them outside,” he suggests, rubbing the towel over his hair. “Better yet, let them go play in the mudslide ten miles east. Maybe they’ll get so tired they’ll just sleep for the rest of the week.” Sandy raises one eyebrow at him.

“They’re kids, Jensen,” she says, wiping a smear of mud off his cheek. “Well, maybe not kids in the strictest sense of the word, but they’re new to this. They’re not used to the setbacks of digs. Just give them a few more days, it’ll be fine.”

Jensen looks dubiously around him at the remains of the whirlwind of human life. “Are you sure?”

Sandy laughs and shoves him forward into the house. “Go shower, you look like the creature from the black lagoon. And change into something sexy.” She does a little shimmy. “We’re taking the children out.”

Jensen just stares as she disappears into the kitchen. She can’t be serious.

\------------

She was, apparently, serious.

Which is how, an hour later, Jensen finds himself in a bar ten miles down the road full of sweating, pulsating bodies and a bunch of rednecks next to him talking about shooting squirrel. His head is pulsing to the beat of the music, and he’s never wanted to be anywhere else more in his life.

He has to admit, however, from a purely academic point of view, that he is maybe enjoying himself. Slightly. It’s fascinating, he thinks, taking a pull from the bottle in front of him, to watch how these people move, react, and interact with one another. The way women speak with flicks of eyelashes, swishes of hair. He watches body language and the way people still, after all these centuries, fit together. He watches, and tries to imagine what it would have been like for the people they’re digging up now, the people whose lives they’re trying to decipher.

Did the women speak with their eyes, the way the ones in this bar do? Did the men make themselves into more prestigious looking versions of themselves? He watches the men in their yuppie, “look at me!” shirts and wonders if this is how life has always been.

He glances at the group of the girls standing by the karaoke machine and smiles slightly to himself. At least he knows that that’s the same, he thinks. The idea of singing to attract the opposite sex. Of course, no one with more than one drink in them should ever do karaoke, but he’s found that that usually isn’t a deterrent for the severely enthusiastic. 

He looks up when someone slides onto the stool next to him and nods in greeting when he sees it’s Jared.

“It is far too hot in here,” is the first thing Jared says, and Jensen nods, not really feeling the need to say anything to affirm the observation. He’s clearly warm—he can feel the perspiration beading down the back of his neck—and he knows Jared can see the sheen of sweat that’s slowly forming, so why speak to answer? “Don’t people in Alabama believe in AC?” 

One corner of Jensen’s mouth quirks up before he can stop it. He flicks his eyes over to Jared’s face and then wishes he hadn’t. Jared’s hair is curling slightly in the damp heat, waving from the rain earlier, and his bangs keep falling in his eyes. He gives Jensen an amused look, and Jensen has to swallow and look away, focus on something else. His anxious brain finally grasps the statement Jared had made a moment earlier, and he comes up with an answer: “Probably sacrilegious.” Jared snorts, amused, and Jensen focuses on his beer bottle again. 

He’s grateful when Sandy bounds to the bar less than a minute later and drags Jared off of his chair despite his protests, pulling him onto the dance floor. She shoots Jensen a smile over her shoulder and he lifts his bottle in acknowledgement, watching her go.

He just needs to make it home alive.

\------------

He’s sitting in the relative quiet of the den a few hours later when Sandy walks in, color-coordinated even for going to bed. He grins at her and shakes his head, and she plops down on the couch next to him, draping her legs over his lap.

“What?” she asks warily. Jensen remembers the first time he saw Sandy, wearing russet pink and khaki, matching earrings and ponytail band in place, he thought she was going to be a flake. He’d never met another girl so coordinated on a dig, and he was sure that meant that she wouldn’t want to do any of the dirty work. Of course, when it had been pouring rain not even three hours later and she was up to her knees in mud, helping to cover the grid, he’d known he was wrong.

“Nothing,” he replies. “You’re just so adorably put together.” She makes a face at the teasing in his voice and flops back on the arm of the couch, one arm draping over the side.

“Whatever, you love me,” she responds, sounding tired. Jensen runs one hand absently down her leg, and she props herself up on her elbows, studying him. “I think Jared likes you,” she says finally. Jensen rolls his eyes. “No, really,” she pushes, sitting up and retracting her legs to sit cross-legged in front of him. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Jen.”

“I’ve seen the way he dances with you,” Jensen retorts, feeling as though this conversation is tilting dangerously towards territory he doesn’t even want to get into. Sandy tilts her head at him. 

“That’s the best you can do? Really? Weak, Ackles,” she teases, poking him in the leg. “And I happen to know that he is not at all interested in women because we were talking and he mentioned an ex-boyfriend.”

“He could be bisexual,” Jensen points out, poking her in retaliation. She shakes her head, the braids she’s put in her hair falling into her face.

“Asked that, too.”

“Sandra!” Jensen just stares at her.

“What?” she asks, sounding offended. “It wasn’t like I was rude about it or anything. I just continued the conversation and then asked if he was riding the fence or on a one-way street.” Jensen snorts, amused, and Sandy shrugs, bouncing slightly in place.

“But I’ve seen him looking at you.” Jensen finally turns to face her head-on, feeling desperation show on his face. This is not where he wants to go with this.

“Sandy…” She nods.

“I know. I just keep hoping that one day you’ll let it stop haunting you. You can’t always hide from it, Jen, or run.” She pats his cheek gently before pushing herself to her knees and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “’Night.”

“’Night,” Jensen echoes as she walks out of the room, listening as she closes the door behind her.

Then he just listens to the silence for a while, trying not to think about blue eyes and a laughing smile. 

\------------

There are duties, of course, for him to attend to. The university knows that he doesn’t like being the center of attention, but the fact is that he’s worked on a lot of digs, many of them high-profile, and so almost everyone in the town knows who he is, knows about his team. He knows that because he’s technically the boss, he has to keep the mayor placated, the news stations updated. The only part he doesn’t mind are the looks on the faces of the people whose construction site they’re delaying—he hates people who look at dig spaces as old parts of history, unneeded and able to be run over and run down almost as much as he hates doing press conferences—the feeling of being on-camera and watched by so many people makes his skin itch.

He answers the questions with some semblance of intelligence, trying to make the process seem easier for these people to understand. He knows that there’s a lot riding on what they find at this site, mainly for the historical museum that the state is trying to erect in place of the condos, but he doesn’t want to spend three hours trying to explain a process that people think they understand but don’t to a bunch of rich hillbillies.

Sighing, he tugs at the tie around his neck, loosening it. The house is blissfully quiet when he walks in, and the note from Chris on the table lets him know they’re working an extra few hours outside to make up for the time they lost over the past few days. He checks the lists hanging from the wall, the giant charts he and Sandy made up detailing whose job it is to do which job on what day.

They have cooking detail, of course. In a house with almost twenty adults in it, it’s easier to divide up the jobs, rather than one person doing the same thing over and over again. Of course, this means that on the nights it’s Sarah’s turn they’re all treated to a variety of vegetarian delights (Jensen has caught Chad sneaking burgers into his room on those nights on more than one occasion). When Chad cooks, it’s some medley of burnt meat with skewered vegetables, and most evenings the team chooses to eat out. He’s finding it easier to interact around them when they go out in large groups, finds himself drawn into conversations where he would have shied away even weeks earlier, and is surprised to find that he enjoys being out with his team. Sandy tells him it’s progress, and he ignores her but knows she’s right. 

Scanning his finger down the list, Jensen notes that it’s Jared’s turn to be on KP, which means he’s probably in the house. He considers going in, asking what they did that day, but he figures that Sandy and Chris will fill him in later that night. His intent is to just walk past the kitchen, but as he does so he’s startled to realize that Jared is actually cooking. And looking quite competent while doing so, as well.

Also far sexier than any man should look while standing in a kitchen surrounded by steam and overflowing pans, hair stuck to his forehead.

Jensen swallows and is about to walk out when Jared turns to grab something from the table and catches him, grin coming fast and bright.

“Hey,” he says, picking up what Jensen now sees are zucchinis before turning back around. “Didn’t see you on the grid today.” 

Jensen watches the way Jared’s forearms flex subtly as he begins chopping zucchini and swallows, looking away. “Yeah,” he answers, shrugging one shoulder slightly. “I had to talk with the locals about what’s going on, give an interview for the mayor. You know.”

Jared turns and looks at him, scraping zucchini into a sizzling pan. “That sounds completely tedious,” he says, surprising a laugh out of Jensen.

“Yeah,” he agrees, rubbing one hand over his hair. “Yeah, it is. You need any help?” The words are out of his mouth before he can take them back, and he’s not sure what to do now that they’re out there. Jared raises one eyebrow, turning completely around and folding his arms over his chest, miles of leg crossed in front of him. It’s suddenly ten degrees hotter.

“Thought this was my gig tonight,” he says, sounding amused, and Jensen shrugs.

“Got nothing better to do,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as completely flustered as he feels.

It’s Jared who laughs this time, and he tips his head sideways to check on the burner, then shrugs, keeping his eyes on Jensen. “Okay, then. You can chop onions.”

Jensen rolls his eyes but grabs one of the knives.

\------------

It’s surprisingly comfortable, working shoulder to shoulder with someone he’s known for less than a month. Jared, for all his exuberance, is surprisingly quiet in the kitchen, speaking only to ask Jensen to pass him something or move out of his way. Which he does with a teasing grin that makes Jensen’s mouth go dry as he silently steps out of the way, pointedly not looking at the miles of tanned skin stretching in front of him as Jared grabs something or another.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

But he’s still there, almost thirty minutes later, when Jared begins layering zucchini and patty-pans into a glass dish that already contained a thin, Pillsbury crust. Intrigued because he hadn’t seen that step, Jensen steps over, peering down at it. Jared just flicks a glance his way and continues working.

“Okay,” he says after a moment of watching Jared layer cheese in as well. “I officially have no idea what you’re doing.”

Jared just shrugs and looks up at him from under his bangs. “Not many people do,” he replies, one corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. Jensen rolls his eyes.

“Smart ass. Seriously, though, what _is_ this?” It looks edible, he thinks, but he’s been wrong about that one before, too. 

“I’m honestly not sure what it’s called,” Jared admits, layering on more zucchini. “My mama’s made it for us since we were little. She just calls it the zucchini dish. My siblings and I call it the [nummy zucchini and cheese stuff. ](http://kaz2y5-impala.livejournal.com/8320.html#cutid2)However, I think if I present it that way to this group, they’ll run for the hills. People tend to not eat what they can’t identify.”

“That’s for sure,” Jensen mutters, thinking of the night before when Chad had cooked and everyone had looked cautiously at the lumps of charred something that he’d called meat before grabbing their coats and deciding on Chinese. 

“Sometimes I think Chad does it on purpose,” Jared sighs, setting the pan on the counter and grabbing a second. Jensen steps in closer and holds out his hand for zucchini slices. It can’t be that hard to layer vegetables on top of each other. Jared rolls his eyes at the determined look on Jensen’s face but hands over a few slices anyways, fingers brushing Jensen’s briefly. It’s the first real contact they’ve had, and Jensen’s hand jerks slightly. He looks away, busying himself with laying the zucchini down as he’d seen Jared do.

“I know what you mean,” he says finally, realizing he still hadn’t answered the comment about Chad. Jared snorts and moves in, patty-pans in hand. He’s too close and Jensen can’t breathe in without smelling him, the scent of the cologne he always wears. A subtle undertone against the crisp smell of fried vegetables. He carefully lays his last zucchini strip down and turns, giving Jared an easy smile.

“I’ve gotta go get changed,” he says, backing out from behind the table. “Thanks for letting me help.” Jared doesn’t reply as Jensen turns and walks out, letting out the breath he’d been holding. 

\------------


	2. Part Two

  


Test pit   
_a small excavation unit dug to learn what the depth and character of the stratum might be, and to determine more precisely which strata contain artifacts and other material remains._

Jensen thinks about what it was Sandy said for a few weeks, considering, as April turns into May and the weeks progress. He watches Jared, and he thinks.

Of course, that’s not all he does. He keeps the mayor updated, he helps the others on the dig, he watches, amused, as Katie and Chad keep circling around each other, as Sarah slowly becomes more open and comfortable. He keeps her assigned in the lab, having her help Chris date and stamp the artifacts, having her talk to him about what she thought they could be used for.

He thinks she’d make a good lab rat, and has already bookmarked her as a potential to come back as a year two digger next year—he knows 

When he mentions as much to Chris and Steve, they nod in agreement. Steve comments that she seems to know what she’s doing, and Chris calls her the Second Coming of Sandy and tells Jensen that if he doesn’t get her back next summer, he will personally make Jensen’s life impossible. Jensen chuckles at that before leaving them, going on his rounds for the day to see how everyone’s doing.

Hilarie is sifting again, at the station with Chad, and she looks up sulkily at him. He resists the urge to sigh and ask her what’s wrong but instead just looks at what they have, talks to Chad for a few moments about the coordination of tomorrow’s sifting—they’re having a few of the town’s bigger names come in to watch the dig, and Steve put Chad in charge of the tour, a huge show of faith and Jensen can tell that Chad is scared shitless but also realizes the importance of the gesture. As he walks away, he hears footsteps behind him and steels himself, turning when he hears Hilarie say his name.

“Yes?” he manages to look pleasant, even though what he wants to do is walk away and just ignore the problem in front of him. Hilarie crosses her arms in front of her, shaking an errant curl out of her face. Of all the diggers on the team, she’s the one who’s been giving them the most problems. Jensen and the other senior diggers had discussed hat to do with her time and time again, and there was never a solution. Sandy finally had said they would have to stop discussing it and just let her do what she would. Jensen raises one eyebrow and waits for Hilarie to speak.

“Well…it’s just…I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to dig,” she says, tapping one foot impatiently. “I mean, I do everything else around here _except_ that, and I don’t get why I work my ass off and get nothing in return.”

Jensen studies her for a long moment, keeps her eyes locked with his until she looks away. “It’s not that you’re not allowed to dig, Hilarie,” he says finally, tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “It’s that everyone here does each job. We break it up in weeks, and sections, and you haven’t been on the bone detail yet.” She opens her mouth to retaliate, and Jensen holds up one hand. “Also, I’m not in charge of where you get put. Sandy’s the one who makes all the decisions about that.”

“But she hates me,” Hilarie says, a whining note in her voice. Jensen feels his head begin to ache. “She never gives me the same attention that she gives Sarah and Katie and Sophia.”

“That’s not true,” Jensen says mildly, refusing to give in to the look of hurt on the girls’ face. “You know as well as I do that Sandy spends the same amount of time with each digger, male or female, no matter what their expertise level is. It’s not something she’s got against you that you haven’t been on bone duty yet,” he says gently. “It’s that that’s the way it worked out.”

“But you’re like her boss, right?” Hilary presses, and Jensen finds himself wondering who the hell taught this kid to not let something go. “You could—”

“I trust Sandy,” Jensen interrupts her. “And I know she knows what she’s doing. And now you have a job, and I have bones to get back to. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He turns and walks away, ignoring the feeling of her eyes boring into him as he goes.

When he gets to his sector of the grid, he hops down carefully, glancing over at Katie and Sophia as they brushes dirt and silt away from the skeleton of a woman they’d found earlier that day. Katie’s nodding her head in beat with whatever’s pumping out of her headphones, but her movements are steady and precise. He nods in satisfaction, and glances over in surprise when a hand appears in his vision, his iPod tucked inside it.

“You dropped it when you were climbing out earlier,” Jared says cheerfully, dropping it into Jensen’s palm. His bandana is green today, and it brings out his eyes. He gives Jensen a crooked smile. “Bet you wish you could have had it while you were making your rounds, huh?”

Jensen’s startled into laughing, and he unwinds the headphones, plugs the earbuds in his ears. “You have _no_ idea,” he says, and Jared raises one eyebrow.

“I live across the hall from her, dude,” he says, crouching back down next to his brush and shovel. “I have some idea.” Jensen snorts and presses play, grabbing a brush and heading to Katie and Sophia.

\------------

He and Jared are the last ones out of the pit that night. Katie had uncovered more of the skeleton woman, and Jared had wanted to help her look at it, and Jensen stayed to help them form their hypotheses, make their observations sharper. There were times, he realized, when he just loved teaching. It still struck him as odd that he was doing it, but he liked being able to just sit back and watch his students interact. He listened to an argument about how old she was for almost fifteen minutes before intervening, showing them both how to determine age based on where the bones were formed, where they overlapped.

Katie had gathered her things and climbed out shortly afterwards, proclaiming that she had to tell her mom that she dug up her very own dead person, and Jared had grinned and told her to go do that, then. He and Jensen had continued their discussion for almost another hour, Jensen showing Jared the different places around the woman where they would likely find her family, where her belongings might be. They chalked out potential digging spaces for the next day, and when Jared’s hand brushed Jensen’s, Jensen glanced up.

Jared’s face was less than two inches from his own, eyes intent on the chalk line he was drawing. Jensen knows he should look away, knows he should get out of the pit before this turns into something worse, something more, but before he can Jared turns his head, and those eyes are staring right into his.

Jensen swallows and then, against his better instincts, Jensen leans forwards that last inch and presses his lips to Jared’s. 

They were both still for one moment before Jared leans towards him, grabbing Jensen’s shirt in his hand. Jensen can feel the chalk crumbling in his own hand, pressing against the dirt where he’s bracing himself, but he doesn’t care because Jared’s licking his way into his mouth, tongue sliding across the roof of Jensen’s mouth, and then Jensen just caves.

He brings Jared closer to him, forgetting that they’re outside, in the open, where people can see them at any moment. He focuses all his attention on Jared, on kissing Jared, and it’s only when he shifts closer to him and his foot knocks against a bucket that he stops, remembering where they are. He pushes Jared back, focusing on wide-blown eyes and flushed lips, and makes himself look away.

“We…I just…this can’t happen,” he stutters out, pushing himself up and hauling himself out of the pit. He runs a shaky hand through his hair and closes his eyes briefly before turning and looking down at Jared. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…that shouldn’t have happened. And it’s not going to happen again.” Not an easy thing to believe when he could still taste Jared on his lips. He resists the urge to run his tongue across his lips, climb back down in the pit and just…

He turns and walks back towards the house, crumbled remains of chalk falling from his fist. He’s not going to let this happen again.

Feature   
_a type of material remain that cannot be removed from a site such as roasting pits, fire hearths, house floors or post molds._

If there’s anything that Sandy’s learned while working with Jensen, it’s that he’s not a very hard person to figure out. 

At least, not on the surface.

She’d known from the first look she had of him in their Prehistoric Archaeology class that he was just the type of person she’d get along with. He was quiet yet observant, and didn’t waste the class’s time pontificating on why he thought his point was correct—he said something, and moved on. He paid attention, didn’t really interact with the people around him, and seemed sensible. She’d immediately wanted to be his friend.

Of course, they hadn’t actually met until later that summer, but that wasn’t the point, was it?

The point, she thinks, watching Jensen sit out on the porch behind the house talking to his mother, was that Jensen wasn’t hard to figure out.

He loved archaeology, he loved digging, and he loved old music. He was a quiet person, although not necessarily shy, and although he didn’t like being around people, they fascinate him.

She knows that all of this is easy to find out, but what she also knows that others don’t is that it’s difficult to pierce the shell he’s put up around himself. Sandy flips through the magazine in front of her, surreptitiously watching him as she does so. He’s got this armor that he doesn’t want people to know about.

Sandy knows about Bobby. Sandy knows that what happened with Jensen in that case, knows that that was the first time since he’d met her almost six years before that he’d opened up to a person that easily. She also knows that she and Chris were not at all okay with Jensen dating Bobby, but that it was his own life, and he had to do what he wanted to. She remembers the day it came out, Bobby’s falsified story, remembers going to Jensen’s and finding him completely broken. She also remembers, she thinks smugly, Chris coming over and refusing Jensen’s father entrance to the house. Of course, in the end his father weaseled his way back into the picture because they needed his help, and he’s been holding it over Jensen’s head in an Emily Gilmore-like way since then. And that infuriates her.

Jensen was the first person Sandy ever loved. He’s her brother and her other half in every way where it counts, and the fact that his father burrowed back into his life and has managed to stay there pisses her off.

She turns the next page more forcefully and winces as she hears the rip, lamenting momentarily at the loss of half of a page of nice dresses.   
She’s always admired him for being able to let go of his family, but it wasn’t until they’d been friends for almost a year that she asked why he did it. Sandy had been trying to get away from hers all her life (and she has to admit that traveling as part of the job is a definite perk—she and her mother are definitely talking over the phone relationship people). The fact that he got out fascinated her for the longest time, she thinks, until she found out why.

Then she just got angry. When Chris found out she knew, he’d just nodded and told her she was right to be angry, that she should always be angry about why it happened. She forgot sometimes that he had Chris to look out for him as well, that Chris had been there since everything had started in high school. She’s never understood parents like Jensen’s, parents who threaten to turn their child out because he’s not what they want him to be. She especially doesn’t understand why his mother let his father get away with what he’d done. When Chris told her once, after far too much alcohol, that his father was more Jensen’s dad than his own, she’d agreed.

When the screen door opens and closes, she watches as Jensen walks through the kitchen and up the stairs. Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was just going upstairs, but she’s seen that look too many times to count. She knows who he was just talking to, who snuck his way onto the phone.

Sandy contemplates going up after him, but decides against it. He’s got factors in him that are immovable, and no matter how much she tries, she won’t be able to get him to open up about this. If she were going to be honest with herself, she’d admit that she doesn’t want to make him open up. Sometimes, he just doesn’t need to talk about it.

Sandy considers getting Chris, but she knows if Jensen wants someone, he’ll get someone.

And that’s what makes him so hard to figure out. The fact that he goes along in life one way, and then suddenly you realize that what he was doing was a façade, something that hides what he really feels about things. He has so many insecurities, she thinks, flipping another page and jotting down a dress number. So many things that he worries about and lets him follow him through his life. She wishes there were a way that she could get him to let them go, or at least let someone else handle some of it instead of locking it inside him, but he always shakes his head and tells her that he’ll take care of it, that he always has, and that she shouldn’t worry about it. He began to let some things go, around Bobby, but after that blew up, he just began holding it in, telling her to not worry.

But she does. That’s what friends are for, Sandy thinks, closing the magazine and picking up her coffee mug with a sigh. She knows what his secrets are, and she tries to get him to let them go. No matter how useless her efforts may be. 

When she hears feet, she glances up as Jared and Katie appear on the porch, laughing and joking around. She stands, taking her coffee with her, and goes out to join them. Maybe this time, she thinks, opening the door, Jensen will finally get something to move. She’s seen Jared watching him, has seen the way he’s made easy friends with everyone on the dig, and thinks that maybe Jared is what Jensen needs—even if Jensen is too scared and stubborn to see it for himself. 

Survey   
_the systematic examination of the ground surface in search of archaeological sites._

Jensen is someone who isn’t easy to figure out, and Jared knew that going in to the dig.

Jensen is famous for being annoyingly tight-lipped about his life—as famous an anyone could be in the archaeological world. He’s seen as the Johnny Depp of their world, Jared thinks, watching Jensen help Hilarie transport a few shards of pottery she’d found that morning. Someone who is seen is polite on the outside, but who, despite the fame, doesn’t want to be recognized. He sees it in the way Jensen carries himself, the way he makes sure that he does every job (even though Jared knows that Jensen prefers working in sector eight, where the cemetery is located), the way he keeps himself slightly on the outside at all times.

He’s unfailingly helpful and stops to give an ear to anyone who wants to ask him a question. He has a smile he reserves for the students, and another that he uses on people he trusts. Sandy and Chris are the only ones Jared’s ever seen make Jensen laugh out loud, although Steve gets grins and snickers out of him from time to time.

He can tell that Steve and Chris are his closest, oldest friends, and is often amused by how many of their conversations take place in snippets of words, or without any words at all. He knows that it’s important to Jensen that he be understood, but that he doesn’t necessarily need to be talking to have that understanding.

He also knows there was an incident a while ago, with a grad student, but he’s not sure if he wants to pry at that issue or not. He knows that he could just Google the whole story, but feels like that would be underhanded. He considers asking Sandy, but is pretty sure that he would just receive _Looks of Extreme Amusement at the Sake of the Students_ and a reminder to not fuck with other people’s business. But he sees the way that, when talking about old digs, she and Chris and Steve carefully watch Jensen’s facial expressions to see what can and can’t be said.

He thinks it’s amusing that Jensen is in a leadership position he seems to have no interest in actually being in. He knows that Jensen is in charge, but he watches the way he steps back, lets Sandy take control. Jared thinks that Sandy’s better for it anyways, full of her undying energy and perkiness. He knows that she’s better at dealing with them, at least. Everyone seems to want to get a piece of Jensen, get some sort of praise from him, and he doesn’t seem to be interested in divulging the secrets of his praise system. So instead, they get turned over to Sandy, who is at times sweet and harsh, and at others as terrifying as a raging bull. She’s the smallest person on the dig, but Jared’s seen her get passionate about it, and he knows that Jensen knows what he’s doing by putting her in charge.

It’s clear that Jensen loves teaching, though. Every time someone uncovers something new or has a question, he’s always nearby, hovering slightly in the background and cataloguing what’s been found, what’s being asked. He works a lot with Katie and Sophia, Jared has noticed, which has caused problems with Hilarie, but Katie is invested in the dig, and Sophia is a second-year grad student. She’s heading down the same path Jensen was, and he seems to love answering her questions, helping her figure out what’s happening, how she can use it back at school. It’s fascinating that he hates being in charge of the group, but loves answering questions and teaching.

Which doesn’t explain why Jared is so fascinated by the man. They’re not friends, not particularly—which isn’t to say that Jensen isn’t buddy-buddy with the rest of the group, because he’s not. They have a polite relationship, and sometimes make small comments in passing, and chat occasionally at dinner, but for the most part Jensen is digging, or off placating the locals, or with Chris or Sandy, and it makes Jared just want to know more about him—this has been happening since the week after Jensen spontaneously helped him cook dinner. That day, Jared had watched him help Sophia uncover the rest of something rather fragile she found, and when they discovered it was the small body of a baby, and she’d shrieked with joy, he’d watched the way Jensen’s eyes had lit up with pride. He wants to know why Jensen feels proud of them, even as he seemingly wants nothing to do with being in charge of them. Wants to know why he spends most of his evenings alone rather than playing cards or watching movies with the group, and why whenever Jared looks at him, he seems to deliberately look away. 

Jared thinks that Jensen hasn’t noticed that he knows these things, and seems to think that he’s the only one who watches people.

\------------

“I tried to climb a tyrannosaurus rex when I was eight,” Jensen divulges, and the room around him bursts into laughter. He gives Sandy a sly smile, one Jared’s never seen before, one that ties his stomach into knots.

“God, not this story again, please,” she begs him, and he just tips his glass at her. She’s on Chris’ lap, one arm wrapped around his neck as he absent-mindedly flicks her earring against her neck. Steve is on his other side, knees touching, and Jared _knows_ what’s going on between the two of them—it’s one of the first things he figured out on the dig, but he doesn’t get why the two of them hide it. All the students know that Chris is with Steve and only flirts with Sandy because it annoys her. 

Of course, he thinks, he could be confused about that last part. He’s consumed so much alcohol in the past hour that he’s not sure he even knows his sister’s middle name anymore.

Sophia leans over, kicking her foot against Jensen’s leg. “Tell! We haven’t heard it before, unlike Shorty over there.”

“Hey! Watch who you’re callin’ short,” Sandy frowns and tries to look stern, but Steve pokes her in the side and she dissolves into giggles. Jared snickers, and Sandy shoots him a death glare. “Yeah, keep laughing, Ginormo.”

“Children, play nice,” Chad says lazily from his corner of the room. Jensen shoots him a glare, and Jared nudges him with his leg. Jensen turns hazy green eyes on him and Jared loses his train of thought for a moment.

“Story?” he says finally, when he remembers how to speak—which is after what he feels is a considerably long awkward pause, but then, he’s also entranced by Jensen’s eyes and is blocking out all the other chatter.

“Right,” Jensen says, taking another swallow from the glass in his hand. “So. I’m eight years old, and my dad took me to the Natural History Museum in D.C., and we’re walking around as part of this tour, and we’re in the dinosaur part. It was bigger than it normally is—” 

“That’s what she said!” Chad interrupts triumphantly, raising his glass, and everyone in the room groans as Katie beans him on the head with a throw pillow.

“Hush, Murray,” she scolds. “Continue, Jensen.”

“So, it’s bigger than it normally is,” Jensen pauses and glares at Chad, who mimes zipping his mouth shut. “Because there was some sort of traveling exhibit going on at that point, and my dad is talking about how they put the dinosaurs together, and one of the other kids in our tour group says that the tail looks like a gigantic slide. So I decide to try and climb up the tail and see what would happen.”

There’s a slight pause, then Sandy gestures with her glass. “And what happened was…?” Jared doesn’t miss the way she’s focused in sharper on Jensen’s face, and part of his brain that is still functioning wonders if she’s worried where this story might go.

“I get about halfway up the tail before a guard notices me and everyone freaks out,” Jensen says, grinning as the room bursts into laughter. “And I’m scared to death, right, because I’m way higher up than I thought I would be and my dad is flipping shit and all I wanted to do was see how the bones worked, and there are alarms and yells, and kids are laughing…anyways,” he waves one hand dismissively. “Long story short, I get down, and my dad realizes that taking me to see the dinosaurs is not the way to satisfy my curiosity about bones, so he signed me up for summer science classes, mini digs, and other stuff like that the very next morning.” Jensen grins as people around the room break into chatter, and Jared watches the light catch the amber liquid in Jensen’s glass and shimmer back onto his face, throwing his jaw into sharp relief.

Later, when everyone else has gone and it’s just the two of them and Sandy in the room, Jensen absently toes at an empty bottle on the floor, tip of his boot scuffing into the carpet. Jared leans his head back on the couch and stares at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time he was this drunk. Probably his senior year as an undergrad, when Chad had dared him he couldn’t drink all night and still pass his first final the next morning. He winces at the memory.

“What?” Jensen’s voice next to his is rough, and Jared wills his body not to pay attention to it. 

“What?” he asks back. Jensen tilts his head and looks at Jared, smile flirting with his mouth.

“You made a weird face.”

“Oh.” Jared shrugs, shifting slightly on the couch. “Remembering college.”

Sandy barks out a laugh. “Perfect reason for weird faces.” Jared grins at her. She wrinkles her nose back at him, then hauls herself up, teetering slightly. “Well, boys, I’m heading up. I’ll clean this tomorrow,” she says, looking around them at the mess. “’Night, handsome,” she winks at Jared, patting him on the head. Jensen catches her hand as she walks out and a look crosses between them that has him laughing and her grinning hugely at him before she leaves.

Jensen shakes his head, settling back into the couch, and both of them are silent for a while. Finally Jared realizes that Jensen is staring into his empty glass, turning the cylinder over and over in his hands. 

“What?” he asks, attempting to sit up all the way. Jensen shakes his head, then looks up at him. 

“Nothing,” he says. Jared raises one eyebrow, and Jensen shrugs. “It’s just…when I got down from the skeleton, the first thing my dad did was take me home and beat the ever-living crap out of me.” He huffs out a laugh, and Jared goes still, struck into silence by the casual admittance—and then he remembers that Jensen said his dad signed him up for archaeology classes the next morning, and the juxtaposition of the two makes him sick for a moment. 

Jensen catches the look on his face and shakes his head. “It’s not a big thing, man. I mean, everyone’s parent has hit them at some point, right?” he asks sarcastically. Jared opens his mouth, and Jensen shakes his head. “Just…don’t,” he says, standing and staggering to the door.

Jared sits alone for a long time after that.

\------------

The next day, he begins examining Jensen. He feels as though the admission from the night before, while it might not have made them best friends, has given him an insight into Jensen, into why he is the way he is.

He’s heard growing up in a house where there is a severely strict parent can hinder the way the child in that house expresses themselves, and he feels that might be what happened to Jensen. He admits to himself later that day that that is an entirely far-fetched idea that probably has no bearing on the situation, but he wants to find out anyways.

If he’d asked Sandy, he would have found out that he was right, and she might have mentioned that his father did the same thing when Jensen told him he was gay, but he doesn’t ask, so he doesn’t learn.

He starts watching Jensen, watching what makes him tick. Feels Jensen trying not to watch him back. He knows what’s on the outside, but he wants to know what’s going on inside his head. Neither of them mentions the night Jensen kissed him, or the night of the dinosaur story, but Jared knows that something changed.

He just wants to know what it is. 

Chronology   
_an arrangement of events in the order in which they occurred._

This, Jensen thinks, is how he fell in love with Jared.

1\. His sense of humor drew him in.

Being on a dig was, in Jensen’s opinion, one of the most thankless jobs someone could have. He doesn’t mind, of course, because it was what he lived to do, but he has eyes. He can see the others getting discouraged, spending long days doing nothing but brushing dirt away. He knows that they know that it’s not about the glory, or the attention, or even the find (although that is satisfying, he admits). It’s about uncovering data, about spending time with the people that brought them to where they are.

But he knows that it’s long, and it’s hard, and it’s thankless.

Jared, however, does not seem to know that. Or if he does, he doesn’t show it. He spends his days making quiet remarks to Sophia that make her smile and bump him with her shoulder, or horsing around with Chris in the lab wagon, using model skeletons to act out their own interpretations of the day’s findings and making Chris laugh and threaten to kill them if they keep horsing around. 

He’s never without a smile, without a laugh or a quick word to someone, and he takes the job and makes it fun, makes it funny even. Jensen finds himself more and more amused as the days go on, and goes without the ear bud sometimes just to hear the snide, sly remarks Jared throws out during the day. It was interesting to him, the idea of someone taking life as it came without really worrying about what would or could happen. Jensen had always been the one organizing, making lists, and thinking about what it was that could happen.

When Jared says as much about him one day, turns that wise-ass grin on him and tells him he has his head in the clouds, Jensen feels the familiar tug at his stomach.

That’s number one.

2\. He dedicated himself to finding out about Jensen.

Jensen’s not used to people being interested in him. He knows what it’s like to have people want his approval, to want to talk to him because of the aura that surrounds him—he’s had more grad students than he can count try to suck up to him, to get him to give some sort of quiet approval. But Jared seems content to just set out and find out everything there is to know about _Jensen_. Not Jensen the Archaeologist, but Jensen the Person. 

Jensen’s not used to being the one studied, and he has to admit that it disconcerts him a little. But after the night that he spent cooking with Jared, the other man suddenly seems to be watching him all the time. Jensen briefly thinks one morning that if this is how _he_ watches people, no wonder they get a bit skittish around him after a while. Jared’s eyes are on him everywhere, and he swears he can see him cataloguing information away. What kind of coffee he drinks, when he decides to indulge in alcohol, when he doesn’t. What he wears on certain days, how he sets out his drawing pad before beginning the sketches of what they found that day, how the things found might have looked when they were being used.

Jared often stretches himself out on one of the couches in the den, legs sprawled across the coffee table while he reads or watches TV on low volume, occasionally looking over at Jensen drawing, or writing reports to send back to the university. It had taken Jensen almost two weeks before he could stay in the room with him for longer than thirty minutes, pretending he didn’t know he was being watched, and Jensen swears that by now Jared has the pattern of his handwriting memorized, knows which flicks of his wrist mean which letters.

He finds himself hoping that he doesn’t know him well enough yet to be able to tell when his hand jerks slightly whenever he feels Jared staring at him.

He probably does, though. Smug bastard.

But that’s not it either, Jensen thinks over dinner one night, watching Jared talk quietly to Sarah (now with blue streaks) about the dig that day. It’s that he’s not smug about it at all. Doesn’t even seem to realize how nervous he’s making Jensen, how on edge he gets every time he feels Jared’s eyes on him. it’s that he genuinely wants to know, and his watchfulness is more about a curiosity than anything. He watches even when Jensen is being crabby, even when he and Sandy are snapping at each other over her stealing his shirts, or working on sifting his find that day. It’s that he wants to know Jensen’s flaws as well as his good points, and seems to be in this for more than just a passing fling.

That’s number two.

3\. He gives Jensen ridiculous presents.

“Here.” 

Jensen looks at the object in his hand askance, not even having a moment to process that it’s there before Jared rattles on.

“It’s a dinosaur,” Jared explains, rubbing one hand absently under the edge of the [bandana he’s tied around his head.](http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a343/NariBear06/In%20Situ/jared_bandana1.jpg)

“I see that,” Jensen says slowly, examining the [tiny pterodactyl.](http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a343/NariBear06/In%20Situ/in_situ6.jpg) “But why do I have it?”

Jared shifts from one foot to the other, and Jensen resists the urge to smile at how sheepish he looks. “Well, I remembered that story you were telling us about how when you were little you tried to climb the T-rex at the Natural History Museum, so I thought I’d get you your own.” At Jensen’s raised eyebrow, he shrugs. “They were out of T-rexes at the toy shop. But I figured this one was cooler, because it can fly.” He gives Jensen a crooked smile before loping back over to Hilarie and the water trough.

Jensen turns the tiny dinosaur over in his hand and watches him go, not sure how to feel about the fact that he remembered a story Jensen told while mostly drunk, in a rare moment of truth for him. He strokes one finger over the tiny wing and thinks about the fact that Jared doesn’t mention the rest of the story, the part Jensen slurred to him when it was just the two of them left in the room. The part where his father slapped him so hard he cried when he saw his son shimmying up the dinosaur’s tail.

His throat constricts, and that’s three.

4\. He’s absolutely ridiculous without seeming ridiculous

“Hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go,” Jared calls to Sandy, and she hoots with laughter, wiggling her hips at him as she leaves the dig site. Jared laughs and turns to Jensen, reaching for the pail containing the hand bones they found that day.

He’s got dirt all over his face, and his hair is sticking out in seven directions because he left it loose, but in that moment, Jensen’s never seen anything more beautiful. He holds onto the pail for a moment when Jared grabs onto it, and Jared’s eyes meet his, questioning.

Whatever he sees in Jensen’s face has his lips quirking in a small smile, a flicker of heat shooting through his eyes before he takes the pail and struts off, hips moving in exaggerated movements.

“Don’t worry,” he shoots over his shoulder. “I know you love watching me walk away.”

It startles a laugh out of Jensen, and that’s four. 

5\. He is utterly patient. 

“I just can’t do this,” Jensen blurts out one day out of the blue. Jared is reading on the couch again and he looks up, startled.

“What?”

“This,” Jensen says, setting down his pencil and running one hand through his hair. “I can’t do this, this thing of you watching me and just waiting for me, I just…I can’t.”

Jared watches him, looking at him almost fondly. “And what exactly is it you think I’m waiting for?” he asks.

Jensen shrugs, feeling completely stupid. “I don’t…I don’t even know at this point, Jared,” he says. He looks up at the other man, gesturing helplessly with one hand. “I don’t even know what it is, really, that you expect from me, and I’m not sure if I’m even reading into this correctly, and…God, you’re making me babble,” he says, horrified. “I never babble. I don’t talk this much around anyone.” He’s completely frustrated now, and Jared chuckles softly.

“I noticed,” he says, holding up one hand for peace when Jensen shoots him a death glare. “Look, Jensen,” he says, sitting up and resting one hand on his knee, leaning towards Jensen. “I had all sorts of ideas about you, when I first came here. I mean, you have to know you’re something of a legend to students, especially at your alma mater,” he adds, lips quirking briefly. “But in all honesty, I’m not really sure what to expect from you anymore. You surprise me, and it’s interesting. I’ve never been able to _not_ figure people out, and so that fact that you’re just this huge mystery? It’s a bit off-putting, and a bit intriguing.” 

Jensen’s not sure how to react to that, so he just remains quiet, holding Jared’s gaze until Jared speaks again. “I like you, Jensen,” he says finally. “But we’ve…sort of talked about this,” he says, smirking slightly, and Jensen realizes he means all the denials Jensen’s given him since the day they kissed, “and I know your feelings about it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, which I clearly have, as evidenced by the babbling.” He grins, and Jensen rolls his eyes, becoming oddly amused by the whole situation. “But I guess I just want you to know that I’m waiting. I like trying to figure you out, Jensen,” he says, standing. “Gives me something to do on the dig.” He gives Jensen that slow, easy smile that makes heat burn low in his belly before he stands and walks out. 

Jensen sits back. Jared wants to know him for him—no one’s ever taken the time to figure him out before. No one’s ever wanted to. Bobby didn’t even seem to care, he realizes, looking down at the words on the page that now just look like gibberish. The fact that Jared wants to know, well…

That’s five.

\------------

 


	3. Part Three

When Jensen finally comes around to the idea he finds he’s more comfortable with it than he feels he should be. He feels he should tell Jared, tell him about Bobby and about what happened. Then he thinks about it again and realizes that’s something that has been chasing him for nearly four years, something that he shouldn’t let follow him anymore.

When Jared comes in the night of Jensen’s epiphany and sits in his usual spot on the couch, Jensen remains where he is for a few moments, looking over his notes from the day and making small sketches of what he imagined the site had looked like when it was inhabited. He doesn’t look up when Jared turns the TV on low, and filters out the background noise.

He finishes the sketch he’s on and glances up at Jared. Closing the notebook, he stands and stretches, and Jared looks over at the movement.

“Leaving so soon?” he sounds genuinely surprised, and Jensen shrugs one shoulder, gives him a small smile.

“Figured I might watch TV for a while,” he responds, and watches the way Jared’s eyes widen in surprise, then warm with pleasure.

“Always an interesting choice,” Jared responds, scooting over slightly on the couch. Jensen takes a deep breath before settling himself next to Jared.

“Yeah,” he says, fixing his eyes on the TV. “It is.”

\------------

Things don’t change very fast after that. At least, it doesn’t seem to Jensen like things change. Jared still horses around with everyone, still gives everyone the same shit-eating grin. He still flirts with Katie and hauls Sophia around like she weighs nothing—which, to Jared, she probably doesn’t. He still shit-talks with Chad and discusses random nerd things with Sarah.

But he watches Jensen more—that Jensen notices right off the bat. He thinks that Jared must have been being subtle before, because now he _sees_ Jared watching him all the time. It’s unnerving at first, he thinks, but at least there’s something about it that’s also comforting. He’s never had anyone watch him before, not the way that Jared’s watching him, hooded eyes and sleepy smile.

They haven’t kissed again, have hardly even touched since the night Jensen sat down to watch TV and his legs brushed Jared’s. But as May slowly progresses into June, Jensen finds himself with this constant itch under his skin. He finds small ways to touch Jared, handing him brushes or shovels.

They find an entire family buried together, finally, near the middle of June, and Sandy just about has a stroke. Jensen watches her, grinning, as she hoots and jumps into Chris’ arms, letting him twirl her around. She laughs, finally begging him to stop, and when she hops down, breathless, she leaps into Jensen. He staggers and feels gentle hands on the small of his back steady him. He doesn’t need to look to know who they belong to, to know why they have this sudden thrum going through his nerves, why all of his attention is focused on that one tiny spot.

Sandy grins over Jensen’s shoulder at Jared. “Isn’t this just fan-fucking-tastic?!” she almost shrieks, and kisses Jensen straight on the mouth. He just keeps grinning at her, wrapping his arms around her as the students catcall and whistle. It’s a huge progression for their dig, they all know that, and the fact that it’s happened at all is something or a miracle, really. They knew going in they may only find one of two bodies, more likely a small settlement that hunter-gatherers used as a base before moving on, but this…this gives the dig more potential. This opens up more funding, and grants, and more focus on the small town, which the mayor will be pleased about, and it means that the construction that was going to happen is officially off. Steve comes over then, with champagne, and pops it open far enough from the grid that it won’t contaminate anything, and Chad whoops, declares this a party night. Sandy agrees, and Jensen can’t see any reason to disagree.

They end up at the same bar they were at the first week of the dig, with redneck music and too much heat and a meshing of bodies on the dance floor. Katie slinks around Chad in a skimpy top Jensen is pretty sure is just string and an eye patch, and her smoky eyes suggest that maybe something else besides dancing could happen between them. Jensen’s watching (and maybe a little buzzed), fascinated, and marveling at how he missed this when Jared comes over, sliding onto the stool behind Jensen’s, just like last time. Jensen doesn’t even think about it, just leans back into Jared, his back pressing against Jared’s shoulders.

He can feel Jared tense, then feels one hand tentatively rest on his hip. Jensen closes his eyes and smiles slightly.

Jared doesn’t have to wait any longer, he thinks.

\------------

Jensen’s not sure how it is he’s always alone with Jared, but he’s pretty sure that this time it’s happened on purpose. He should know that his team has eyes, that they can see. He should know he’s not the only one who observes and files things away. So when he’s alone with Jared, he thinks that this time, it was deliberate. He remembers Sandy watching them sit at the bar, her eyes slowly warming with pleasure as Jensen laughed at something Jared had said to him, and he knows that Chris has figured it out.

He’s leaning against the back wall of the bar when Jared comes out, enjoying the slight breeze on his skin. He feels this side of too hot, sticky and almost uncomfortable. Jared leans against the wall next to him for a moment, just reveling in the silence. Jensen can feel the thump of the bass through the wall and it seems to match with his heartbeat.

Everything seems so sped up.

Finally, he speaks. “This reminds me of home.”

Jared turns his head slightly. “Yeah?”

Jensen nods. “Yeah. Summers, we used to sleep out on the side porch. My cousins lived next door to us for a long time, and we’d hang mosquito nets and drag our mattresses outside. We didn’t have air conditioning when I was little, just those little window ones?” Jared nods in understanding. “And it was cooler to sleep outside. Feel the air on your skin, almost too little air to do anything about the heat, but it was better than being cooped up.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been cooped up a lot.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he realizes Jared has leaned his head up and is studying him quietly in the light from the neon sign above them. Jensen stares back for a few moments.

“What?” he says finally, feeling too big for his skin. The itching has come back, and in his present state he’s pretty sure that he’s gonna do something to Jared that he wouldn’t usually do—the fact that he’s even thinking about it again means something has to be wrong.

Jared shakes his head. “Nothing. I just…I don’t know what to make of you.” His speech sounds slower, heavier, and Jensen leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes again.

“Yeah. I’m the mystery boy of the department,” he laughs, sounding harsher than he meant to.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Jared says, glancing over at him. “What I mean is…you say things that sound so normal. I guess I forget that you had a life before this, you know? And then you never talk about your…your home,” he sounds hesitant with the word, and Jensen can’t blame him. After all, he thinks, the one time he spoke about it he didn’t really give it much of a standing ovation. “So I guess I just think it’s not something I think about, that you actually have another life.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says again, keeping his eyes closed and trying not to think about yellow curtains with butterflies on them, about freshly baked bread and warm green eyes. Doesn’t let himself remember, because those memories fade into white walls and frozen dinners and eyes that become the shade of weeping willows. 

“Jensen?” Jared’s voice is closer to his now, and Jensen opens his eyes, focusing in on hazel eyes, hopeful and worried and hesitant. Jared just looks at him for a long moment before he leans in and hesitantly presses his mouth to Jensen’s.

Jensen doesn’t respond for a moment. Then, in a flash of the first time they kissed, hesitant and slow, he pulls back and studies Jared’s face. “The hell with it,” he mutters, and grabs Jared’s collar, yanks him down to him.

Jared lets out a noise of surprise before realizing what’s happening, and latches onto Jensen’s mouth like it’s what’s keeping him alive. He shifts slightly, fitting them together chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip. His leg slides between Jensen’s and he breaks the kiss for a moment, gasping slightly.

Jensen takes advantage of this and scrapes his teeth of Jared’s jaw, which earns him a growl in return and Jared’s hands tightening on his arms before sliding down lower, palming up the bottom of his shirt and spreading his hand over the exposed flesh there. When Jensen arches into the touch, Jared just smirks.

“Shut _up_ ,” Jensen growls, pulling him back down.

Jared slows his movements, making them more caressing, gentler, and Jensen finds himself leaning into the touch. It’s been so long since someone treated him like something that was precious, something that needed to be taken care of, deserved to be looked over with time and care. He feels treasured, safer than he has in years, and suddenly, like that, none of it matters.

What happened before, what he’s told himself he won’t let happen—none of it even matters. For the first time in nearly four years, he’s not thinking about Bobby, or about how spectacularly fucked the whole situation became, or about why he wouldn’t let himself do this.

Jensen doesn’t care that this is, essentially, wrong. He knows that there will be secrets, that this is never going to work because of his inability to be able to share those secrets, but he doesn’t care in this moment. In this moment, all he cares about are Jared’s hands on him, his fingers tangled in Jared’s hair, and the heat of him, between them.

For now, this is enough.

Pot sherd   
_a piece of broken pottery._

 

Jared stares at Jensen across the room, hands clenched into fists as he tries not to pick up something, tries not to throw something at him. He knows that this is ridiculous, what they’re talking about, but he can’t bring himself to care, not even a little bit.

June has just begun to blend into July, and the site has been going beautifully. Jensen took Sarah and Jared with him to the latest press conference, letting the town see some of the students who helped discover the bodies, helped discover the fact that this may have been and entire town and not just a resting place for a few days.

He knows that Hilarie is still sore about it, he’s watched her watch Jensen since day one, but he’s not worried about it. 

He knows that Jensen is only looking at him. 

But tonight, he’s not so sure. They had returned from the press conference, and Jensen had seemed…different. Happier, maybe, and that was what threw Jared off. It was rare for Jensen to actually show any sort of emotion, to share it with other people, and so the fact that he was open and bright, made Jared let his guard down. Chris was grinning up a storm, had been since they’d returned, and he and Jensen had been trading laughing insults throughout dinner, with Sandy and Steve egging them on.

The fact that he even felt he had to have his guard up around Jensen was something he hated, but he knew that it was something that he had to do. He knows that Sandy watches him as well, that she makes sure that he’s okay, but now that they’re…whatever they are, Jared feels like it’s partially his responsibility as well. He knows what’s happened in jensen’s life in the past, with his dad and the grad student (he has yet to ask for details on that, and if beginning to wonder if he’ll ever be able to), and he doesn’t want things like that to happen again.

So they’d returned from the conference, and Jared and Sarah were jazzed, stoked about the fact that they’d actually just been allowed to answer questions, to help answer people’s concerns about the dig. Jared had given an entire commentary on why this dig was good for the area, and Sarah had talked about the bones, what they meant, how old they were—he found that they worked together perfectly, and he knew by the smiles she kept shooting him that she thought the same thing.

It was odd, but he could see them being the next Jensen and Sandy.

And when he’d mentioned as much to Sandy, she’d laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist and told him she sure hoped so. Jensen had just smiled at him, and Jared had felt something tug at his heart.

He knew, of course, that he felt something for Jensen. But it wasn’t until that moment that he thought that it might be anything close to love. He never expected it to be love. If he was going to be honest with himself, his feelings for Jensen had developed as a result of the odd fascination he’d always felt towards the man. He felt almost guilty about that, at times, worried that maybe all he felt was fascination, that the only reason he’d become involved was because he just wanted to pick Jensen apart. But then he’d see Jensen grin at Chris or huddle over bones with Sandy, and he’d know that, yes, there was something there. Something besides fascination. 

So, they’d returned home. And they’d talked about the press conference and they’d eaten dinner, and then they’d all gone into the living room. And then Chad had turned on the news, Katie perched on his lap. Things had gone smoothly until all of a sudden there was a man with bright blue eyes and a killer smile onscreen, and Sandy’s lips had tightened, and Jensen’s face had gone white. He’d stopped talking in mid-sentence, Jared recalls now, looking at Jensen’s back, looking at how Jensen’s turned away from him. And then he’d just stood and walked out of the room. Jared remembers looking at Sandy, who’d shaken her head slightly. Chris had bolted out of the room after Jensen, and they all heard the few, short words that Jensen had said before Chris came back in, exchanging looks with Sandy. 

Of course, he hadn’t paid any attention to that, he thinks now. Of course he didn’t get the warning, the _it’s too early for you to ask him about that, leave him be, honey_ warning she was obviously trying to send him.

God, he was stupid sometimes.

So now he’s standing in Jensen’s bedroom, trying to figure out what’s happening, what’s going on. And Jensen won’t talk to him. won’t even look at him.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Jared finally asks, and Jensen’s head jerks minutely. “Jen, please.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jensen’s voice is harsh in the near-silence of the room, and he flashes Jared one look over his shoulder, an angry glimpse of green, before he turns around again.

“Jensen,” Jared begins, stepping forwards. “Please. You have to let me know what’s happening. You have to let me know how I can help.”

“Why do you care?” Jensen’s voice is softer this time, but the heat is still there. Jared thinks of the man with the blue eyes and hates him, even though he has no idea who the man is. He has no idea who he is or what he meant (or means, though that thought makes Jared’s stomach tie itself in knots) to Jensen, but he hates him for causing this to happen. Even if he’s not the cause, he’s the catalyst, and in this instant Jared wants to hunt him down. “Why do you care?” Jensen repeats, and now he does turn around, arms crossed so tightly over his chest Jared’s afraid it’s affecting his breathing. “Why do you _care,_ Jared?” Jensen sounds almost mocking now, walking towards him with slow, measured steps. “Is it because I’m some big mystery? I’m some huge enigma for you to unravel, is that it? I’m just here to be amusing, aren’t I, Jared?”

“What?” Jared steps forward, feeling hurt. “How can you say that, Jensen?”

“Give me _one_ time when you’ve ever actually cared about me, one time when you’ve done something that you didn’t do out of curiosity, or because you thought it might get you closer to me.” 

Jensen bites off the words. He knows he’s being unfair. God, he can see the insult on Jared’s face, clear as day, but he can’t make himself stop. He just needs Jared to go away, if he can push him away, everything will be fine. He’s too close to knowing everything about Jensen, too close to finding out everything Jensen hoped he never would. “You began watching me because I fascinated you, and you kept doing it because you had patience. What was I, some hobby?” he throws out the word. “Some little trifling thing to keep you occupied on the dig? Well, I have news for you, Padalecki. I’m not.” 

He stops for a moment, takes in the way that Jared is almost reeling from him, eyes going wide with shock, mouth falling open. It would be comical if it wasn’t so serious, Jensen thinks. But he has to make this happen. He doesn’t want to, but he knew this was coming, and he has to make it happen. “I’m not some toy, Jared. And I’m not going to be divulging any more of my secrets.”

“You haven’t even begun to divulge any of them!” Jared finally finds his voice and explodes, and Jensen’s almost glad for it. Him being angry will make this easier, he thinks, trying to make sure that he doesn’t fall apart in front of Jared. Jensen needs to hurt him to make him go away. That’s just what needs to happen. “You haven’t told me _anything_ about yourself, Jensen! What I found out I found out by watching you or from you telling me _one_ story about your father, or from what Sandy told me—”

“Sandy told you things about me?” Jensen says finally, softly. This time the anger is real. He hadn’t expected her to go behind his back, to tell Jared things about himself.

Jared holds up one hand. “No, wait. That’s not what I meant, I mean…she didn’t tell me things directly, but she told me she knew that we were…involved. And she wanted me to be careful with you. That’s all she said to me, I swear. Jensen.” Jared sounds pleading, and Jensen hates it. He hates the note of _please, don’t do this_ , and he finally blows up.

“For fuck’s sake, Jared, we’re adults here, right? Why are you hanging onto this when I clearly want to let it go?” He’s yelling now, and he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that everyone in the house can surely hear them. The chatter from downstairs stopped a few minutes ago, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Why are you holding on to me so much? I’m telling you that I don’t want to share my secrets. I don’t want to be your hobby anymore. I don’t want to be watched or be amusing or be fucking anything, because I am just done with this, Jared!” he stops for a moment, watches the moment that Jared’s heart breaks.

He can see it happening, and feels like the worst person in the world for it. “I’m just done.” He says again, and turns away.

When the door closes behind him, he doesn’t turn around.

Post mold / post hole   
_a type of feature; a circular stain left in the ground after a wooden post has decayed; usually indicates the former existence of a house or fence._

Time passes quickly after that. Everyone in the house is quiet for almost a week, tiptoeing around Jensen. He doesn’t act any differently—he still gives the same amount of praise, spends the same amount of time with each person every day. He gives out small smiles and does every job. But he knows they know something is different.

He eats alone most nights, staying outside or in the den until long after the others are gone. He heats up leftovers or frozen dinners and carries them to his room, not wanting to talk to anyone. Sandy always leaves the door to her room open, and he considers going in sometimes, but he knows that she knows him. She’ll know when it’s time to come in, horns blowing, to kick his ass into shape.

He knows she remembers from last time. The only difference is, this time, he’s the one who’s left.

\------------

July shoots forth sweltering heat after the fourth, and Jensen overhears Chad telling Katie that Jared found another dig to join, one that was taking place a few states over. Hears him say that at least it’s colder there. He’s pretty sure that he hears him mention the exact address as well, but he forces himself to not memorize it.

He tells himself that he doesn’t care.

They find another family near the end of July, and at this point it’s mainly the students digging. Sandy stays out with them, digging late into the night, helping them with things—this is the period, he knows, when they should be the primary diggers. This was always his favorite part of a dig, and now he just can’t bring himself to be around their excitement because it always seems like a small bit of exuberance is missing.

Hilarie gives Jensen a smug smile each time she passes him until one day he finally meets her eyes, lets her see the complete lack of emotion there. She blanches, and doesn’t look at him again.

The second family confirms what they know about it being a settlement, and the dean of Jensen’s university offers him the chance to stay and teach at the site throughout the fall, maybe do a hands-on class, and while Jensen appreciates the offer, everything about the dig site reminds him of Jared. He declines with polite thanks, and Sandy takes the job instead.

He’s happy for her, he really is, and the night that she comes in to tell him about it is the night that he finally kicks his ass back into gear, mainly because she tells him he’s being pathetic. He hears the steel in her voice, but sees the underlying concern, and appreciates both. The second family leads to the beginnings of a few house foundations, and as July turns into August, Jensen finds himself becoming more absorbed in the dig again. 

By August first, he’s gone two whole weeks without seeing the color hazel and thinking of Jared.

By August third, he’s managed to go three days without seeing a bandana and thinking of Jared.

By August fifth, he’s managed to lose the pterodactyl. 

By August seventh, he’s managed to re-locate it and hide it in the back of his sock drawer, convincing himself that he doesn’t remember that it exists.

And by August nineteenth, he’s ready to go. Ready to pack up his bags and leave this place behind him. He has to come back in October, as lead digger, to make sure that the site is progressing, but he knows that he’s leaving it in good hands. The only thing he’s upset about leaving is Sandy, but he knows that they’ve been away from each other for longer periods of time than this before, and he knows that they’ll keep in touch.

On his last night on the dig site, they throw him a party, and everyone comes over to thank him, tell him how much they’ll miss him. Hilarie keeps her distance, and he thinks that that’s probably the smartest thing she’s done all summer. He doesn’t want to unleash the tight ball of anger inside him on anyone but himself. He watches as Sarah and Sophia talk about how they’ve been invited to stay for the fall semester, get hands-on lab hours, and he smiles, realizing that his recommendation about Sarah got through. At least someone got wind of this girl, he thinks, watching her tiny hands fly around her face as she talks animatedly. 

He thinks, belatedly, that he’ll miss her as well.

He glances around the party a few times before he realizes that what he’s looking for isn’t there, and he kicks himself for it.

Hugging Sandy, he walks upstairs, leaving the music behind him. He doesn’t need it as a reminder of what he’s lost.

Going into his sock drawer, he pulls out the socks that hold the pterodactyl and takes the small dinosaur into Sandy’s room. He hesitates a moment, then places it on her bed.

Material remains   
_artifacts, features and other items such as plant and animal remains that indicate human activity._

Jared’s been gone for three weeks when he finds the t-shirt in his suitcase.

He’d pulled some strings at the university, telling the dean that it was his allergies that were getting to him, that the heat and humidity were too much. They, thankfully, have another dig in Ohio, which is both cooler and drier, and he packs his bags the next morning, leaving before everyone else has even thought about waking up.

He regrets not being able to say goodbye to Sandy, but he knows that she’ll know what happened. Somehow, she always does.

He’s been at the dig for a good three weeks when he realizes he has to do laundry as he roots around his suitcase looking for a shirt—the fact that he’s rooting at all should mean something, he thinks, and his hands clench around the material.

He’s about to put it on before he even realizes what it is, then he just stops.

It’s one of Jensen’s shirts, one they must have mixed when doing laundry. It’s faded and worn, the Zepplin logo flossing its color in the middle, only the wings of the angel really visible anymore. He holds it in his hands for a long moment, then shoves it in the back of his hotel room dresser. He doesn’t want to be reminded of it.

He joins the new dig at the end of June, and by July he feels comfortable there. Because of what he did on the other dig, he’s put in the grid right away, but he doesn’t feel the same passion for it as he used to. Each swipe of the brush reminds him of startled green eyes, chalk crushing cool between his fingers, a press of lips. This dig is working on old settlements, some of the first to come to the country, but it’s been ongoing for almost a year, and almost anything that was going to be found has already been unearthed.

But he goes through the motions, watches the days fly by as July becomes a relatively mild August. He calls his mama, tells her that he switched digs, talks trash about sports with his baby sister. He thinks of home almost longingly, and can’t wait until he can escape back to school, get back to shoving his head in books. He gets the occasional text from Chad, which is only to be expected, and one very late drunken voicemail about Katie, saying that they’ve finally just “given into our animal passions, dude. It was kind of epic, actually. Oh, and I forgot to tell you. Your boy is just moping around everywhere. I think you made a mistake, man. Later.” Jared’s jaw clenches through the last part of the message and he erases it immediately, sending Chad a congratulatory text, as is his duty as the best friend, and tries to forget about the rest of it.

But he does take the t-shirt back out that night, folding it over and over again in his hands. 

In situ   
_in the original place._

When Jensen finally begins teaching again, it’s almost a relief. He has simulated digs to get undergraduates through, and more advanced courses at the graduate campus three days a week. It’s a little lonely, with the office next to his devoid of a peppy, fast-talking brunette that he’s shared the better part of seven years with. But she calls often, letting him know how Sarah’s doing, tells him that Sophia’s become quite the lab rat and that Chris is ridiculously proud of her. 

She tells him that Steve has made them t-shirts, and she sends him one. It’s got a dorky picture of all of them on the front, taken the first official day of the gig. Jensen looks at it for a moment, smiling, then folds it and displays it in the cabinet in his office.

If an ancient bust covers up someone’s face, that is purely coincidental.

He thinks about calling often, or sending an email, just to see how he’s doing. He lies awake more night than he can count, recalling the last moments between himself and Jared, asking himself how he let things get so out of hand. Was it so hard for him to open up? He told Sandy things, he thinks, flipping through the papers on his desk. It’s well into October now, and the leaves are beginning to turn.

Is it really so hard for him to tell people what he thinks, he wonders, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. Why couldn’t he have just told Jared, or at least hinted at it? There was supposed to be trust in a relationship, right?

He supposed that the whole problem with that idea was that he’d never really had one of those. He’d never really been a person that people wanted to date, never was someone who tried. And then when Bobby had come along…he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, and looks up at the rap on his door.

“Come in.” He glances at the clock, noting he has about fifteen minutes of office hours left. “Can I help—” He freezes, and doesn’t know what to say.

Jared is standing in front of him, duffle slung over one shoulder, fist clenched at his side. Jensen blinks, realizing he’s wearing his Zepplin shirt, the one he thought he’d lost on the dig.

“What…um…come in,” he says finally, standing and walking around the desk. Jared takes a few steps forwards, then stops. “So…how was the dig?” Jensen asks, wincing at how ridiculous he sounds. Jared shrugs.

“It was fine. Colder, for sure, so that was nice.” He flashes a hint of a smile then sobers again. They stand in silence for a few moments before they both begin to speak.

“Jensen, I—”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—”

They both stop, and Jared chuckles slightly. “Go ahead,” he says. Jensen shakes his head.

“No, go ahead. You came here, so…you go.” Jared studies him for a moment, then steps forwards.

He clears his throat a few times, shifting his duffel across his back. “I just…” He glances up, searching Jensen’s face, before blurting out, “you weren’t ever a hobby, Jensen. You weren’t just like some _thing_ I picked up wanting to just have a good time with. It might have started like that, yeah, because I couldn’t figure you out, but then the more I got, the more I really did want to get to know you, and I genuinely liked you and had feelings for you, and I just…” He stops and looks down, and Jensen stands up slightly, shifting so they’re closer together. “I feel protective towards you,” Jared says softly. “I think it’s because you never talked about things, about your past, and you were always so closed off. I got the idea someone had hurt you, and I wanted to protect you from that happening. Which I realize now is stupid and maybe off-base, but still. I’m sorry I over-reacted.”

Jensen is silent for a moment before speaking, and when he does, Jared glances up, hair falling in his eyes. “I was hurt,” Jensen says slowly. He realizes that Jared’s taken a huge risk in coming here, and he leans against the desk, glances at the shirt hanging in the display case. Risk, he thinks, should be a two-way street. “I can’t really talk about it,” he says slowly, “but I can tell you he was a student, first summer I was on a dig. We were…involved, and he used that against me.” Jensen remembers that morning, the feeling of complete betrayal, his father’s cool voice on the phone telling him he could make it all go away as long as Jensen pretended to be normal while he was around his mother. “I can’t tell you the rest of it now, but I’d like to be able to, at some point.” _if you want to stick around_ , he adds in his head, watching for Jared’s reaction. Jared tilts his head, studies Jensen.

“Is that an invitation?” he asks, and Jensen finds himself relieved that this is going to happen in a way that doesn’t involve shouting. He nods mutely, and Jared takes a step closer, looks around at the office. “I think you’re missing something.” Jensen opens his mouth to ask what, but Jared opens his clenched fist and drops something into Jensen’s hand.

Jensen looks down at it, finding the fierce mouth of the pterodactyl staring back up at him. Jared steps closer, and Jensen looks up, fist clenching on the dinosaur’s wings.

“There,” Jared says, smiling slightly at him. “That’s better.”

“In situ,” Jensen whispers, letting his fingertips trail over Jared’s cheekbones. Jared smiles.

“Exactly.”

\------------


End file.
